


Daddy’s Home

by Saint_Mick



Category: Shameless - Fandom, gallavich - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 17:08:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 27,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12869160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saint_Mick/pseuds/Saint_Mick
Summary: After escaping prison almost three years ago, Mickey Milkovich finds himself in the worst possible place for a wanted fugitive, and reconnecting with people he never thought he’d see again.





	1. The Last Milkovich Standing

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic ever written, apologies in advance for misspellings and grammatical errors. Hope you like parallels.

Mickey stepped out of the shower and wrapped a white towel around his waist. The small shack on the beach he had been staying in was the size of your typical studio apartment or mother-in-law unit, with the closet just a few feet away from the bathroom. He never got around to getting an actual bed for himself - instead, he slept on the futon couch in the middle of the small room, which is where he often tossed his burner phones before roaming around the small complex. As Mick pulled a soft white t-shirt over his head and slid on some boxers, his phone began vibrating and buzzing next to his pillows.

Mickey expected the caller to be his older brother Colin and was glad to see he was right. Colin was released from jail around the same time Mickey was arrested. He made his way to Toronto and started a new life; he had a job, a girlfriend, and a 2-year-old daughter with another one on the way. They kept in touch throughout Mickey’s many burner phones because Colin’s phone number had never changed and Mick had it memorized.

“Yeah?!” Mickey answered.

“Hey, man, a job opened up at my place if you wanted to quit that beach bum life and head this way.” Colin had been trying to get Mick to Canada for a while now. He had the connections to help Mickey start over. Mickey couldn’t deny that he was definitely considering it; it would be nice to be around familiar faces and have support.

“If you get yourself over here, I can guarantee you will be set for life man; Mexico ain’t gonna offer you anything. The only thing I can’t help you with is getting here. You’ll have to figure that shit out on your own, but I got your back on the rest. Think about it and let me know,” Colin insisted.

“Yeah, I’ll think about it. Thanks.” Mickey hung up.

~  
Later that evening Mickey was sitting on a brown leather studded stool away from the other avid drinkers. He always kept his distance and minded his own business at bars. Occasionally, some arrogant old man would get overly intoxicated and begin divulging stories no one cared about.

A middle-aged caucasian man with long ginger dreadlocks and matching red beard sat further down the bar, his dreads pulled back with a bandanna. He resembled someone you'd assume belonged to a motorcycle gang but apparently had an old run down RV instead. He claimed to have smuggled tons of narcotics and illegal immigrants from multiple border crossings. He just so happened to be in Mexico making a drug run and had decided to make a pit stop before heading back to and across the states up to Canada. There the man sat on the bar stool, preaching his wisdom as a "professional drug trafficker/immigrant concierge"; this would've been the dumbest shit Mick had ever heard if he hadn't been so desperate for a potential ride.

The beach and warm sand, the breeze and vibrant colors of the world he now woke to every morning was fucking fantastic. Mickey truly fell in love with Mexico and everything it had to offer. He managed to keep a low profile the two years he lived in hiding but was still able to make a handful of friends, some of which he slept with, but he never let anything develop into something too serious; he still wasn't sure he was ready for that.

One of his closest friends/lovers was the bartender and co-owner of this dump of a dive bar; Gabriel, or Gabe as everyone called him. Gabe was only a few inches taller than Mickey with light, caramel colored skin, hazel eyes, and dirty blonde hair.   
Mickey always teased him, calling him "one of those white Mexicans". Nonetheless, he was extremely attractive.

The sex was good. It was always good with Gabe, but Mick missed having someone there that knew him. Someone that knew every word he ever wanted to say with just a simple look, someone who looked past his angry facade and understood him entirely. He craved companionship and being able to relate. He missed his siblings, though he'd never admit it, and wished things were different.

Talking to Colin on a regular basis kept him sane, and Colin was right - realistically, could he really stay in Mexico forever? Sometimes he'd vent to Gabe about his past memories but Gabe grew up sheltered, so he rarely could relate. He'd just simply tell Mickey to "go back, screw all the risks", and all the other cliche   
"home is where your heart is" Hallmark crap. Mick hated that even in paradise, he began feeling that same loneliness he had felt behind bars.

“Enough with the stories, Tedd, you’ll give us all headaches before we even get hangovers!” Gabe called out to the ginger dreadhead.

“Call them what you will, Gabe, but my stories are true! I swear I will spill my secrets before I die if the man upstairs lets me. Hell,   
I should write a damn book one day!” Tedd hollered back with a grin. The men in the bar rolled their eyes and went back to their usual talking amongst themselves.

"So, what you’re saying is you've taken people in and out of different countries and you've never been caught?" Mickey randomly questioned from a few stools over. The bar fell silent.

“Never caught, not once. Been doing it for years," the bearded man replied while tossing back the last of his beer.

“So how exactly does a moron like you get past the feds?" Mickey asked again without making eye contact.

"Let's just say, kid, I could show you better than I could tell you. The name's Tedd, spelled the same way I like my women; with double D's" he tilted his chin up as a welcoming gesture.

“Yeah, okay Tedd,” Mickey rolled his eyes.  
~

It was closing time, and as all the drunks slowly made their way back home, Tedd convinced Mickey to come take look at his prized possession.

"Lemme get this straight," Mickey interrupted as they stood inside the prehistoric RV, cramped with stained furniture, random wooden cupboards all around, and reeked of weed.

"You want me to squeeze my ass in there and stand next to these hoses and pipes and shit the whole way back? Are you out of your fucking mind?!" Mickey shrilled, eyebrows furrowing together.

“I know it seems crazy, man, but trust me, it's the only way. Works every time; sometimes I even let people borrow this RV to do family trips. This one time I let some guy go pick up some old drunk dude from Canada and bring him back to Chicago after customs wouldn’t let him through. I guess it was his father-in-law or something; family drama is a bitch. Anyways, that was a few years ago but I'm pretty sure you're smaller than him so you should fit fine.”

"Shut the fuck up, this better work. I can't go back to prison, you get that?” Mickey stood starring the man down until he met Mickey's gaze and saw deep in those crystal blue eyes that Mick was, indeed, not fucking around.

“Trust me, man, you'll be singing ‘Oh Canada’ before you know it. So when did you want a ride?” Tedd asked.

“Give me some time to talk to my brother and get my shit together - like a month or two. I’ll have Gabe call you down here when I’m ready.”  
~

It was hot inside that closet and different wires and pipes kept falling in Mick’s face every time the RV made a wide turn. They were halfway across the country and Mickey only came out to eat, sleep, and piss. Other than that, he didn’t wanna risk the feds.

Suddenly, the tires screeched and the RV swerved slightly from side to side.

“What the fuck!” Mickey yelled as his head hit the wall and the RV made a harsh stop. He waited a few minutes for Tedd to give him the okay to emerge from the small space. Tedd tapped three times on the door, giving the signal.

Mickey swung the door open. “The fuck is going on? Why did we stop?” 

“I hate to do this to you, Mick, but ol’ girl just died on me, man.   
She’s always run fine. I don’t know what happened,” Tedd cried.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! You promised this shithole could take me all the way to Canada! What the fuck do we do now? Where the fuck are we?!” Mickey yelled while rubbing the aching side of his head.

“Illinois, I think. Chicago... we’re in Chicago,” Tedd sniffled, mourning the loss of his run-down RV.

“Jesus fucking Christ, your fucking piece of shit RV. I can’t fucking believe this shit,” Mickey spat at Tedd in frustration. Of course this extremely reliable way of transportation and illegal activity would only break down the one day Mickey needed it most. Now he was back in the worst city imaginable when it came to starting his life over. He was bound to be recognized and arrested here. He needed a place to stay, and fast.

“I gotta get my shit and get the fuck out of here before a cop stops by. Thanks for nothing, Tedd. Go fuck yourself,” Mickey huffed as he threw on some winter clothes and fled the RV.

No one on Zemansky Road was outside. Mick can't remember the last time he saw this area this quiet. He was supposed to be on his way to a new, better future. He should have known the South Side would always bring him back.

The wanted felon had been MIA since escaping prison two years ago, crossing the border into Mexico. But today, he was making his way through South Side, Chicago to a place he used to call home.

“Not even any gunshots or sirens, really?" He muttered in disbelief to himself.

There was definitely a chill in the air, especially with the sun barely being out, but even if it was summertime he'd probably still be wearing the same black beanie and olive green scarf, these exact dark blue jeans, grey shirt and black heavy coat, and black lace-up shoes. For one, they're the only items of clothing he grabbed that looked Chicago-ready and not like beachwear, and secondly, the beanie and scarf were his only hope at attempting to disguise himself for the walk back home.

"Holy fuck," Mickey sighed as he stood there staring at the infamous Milkovich house. Almost all the visible windows on the house were smashed in. The grass was extremely overgrown, and paint chipped off of every white surface. Broken down, abandoned, and practically useless, yet still standing in all its glory like a true Milkovich. Mickey knew things probably got pretty bad around here since he left, but fuck if he thought things could get worse than this. The front gate creaked back to life as he stepped through, his heart racing, not knowing what he'd find inside, if anything at all.

 

“Fucking junkies probably ransacked the place," Mickey mumbled under his breath as he stepped up the ten concrete steps to the front door.

Of course the front door was unlocked. "The fuck did they break the windows for? Assclowns," Mickey grumbled as he gave the doorknob a firm twist and a shove, as it seemed stuck or maybe even blocked by something on the other side of the door.

With one more good shove, the door flew open, but not entirely -  
just enough for him to slide through the opening. When he finally stepped foot inside, it became clear the house he was raised in had been turned into some low-life crack house. Besides the sunlight that peeked in from the breaks in the windows, the house was dark, every inch covered in a grey film from all the dust that collected over the years. Mattresses of all sizes covered the entire living room floor, and beer bottles, cans, makeshift pipes, lighters, spoons, dirty needles and empty prescription pill bottles flooded all the walkways.

"God damn junkies, always fucking up everyone else's shit." Mickey shook his head as he removed the black beanie and olive scarf from around his neck and ran one hand through his silky black hair in frustration. He had let it grow out long on top but kept the sides and around his head short, unwilling to keep the prison-do in Mexico's scorching heat.

After that road trip, the last thing he wanted to do was clean up after some squatters. Curious to see what shape the rest of the house was left in, the first place he ventured to next was his bedroom. As Mickey sidestepped around all the broken glass and garbage, kicking chip bags and expired food cans out of the way to his door, he noticed his handmade 'StAY tHE FucK Out' sign was halfway hanging off, but still there holding on for dear life with duct tape. Mickey smirked at the familiar poor penmanship across the cardboard. He didn't know he could miss so much.

Opening the door to his bedroom, the smell is what hit Mickey first. "Ah, what the fuck! " he groaned and instinctively covered his nose and mouth with his right hand, the hand that conveniently had FUCK tattooed across his knuckles. An odor that could only be described as ammonia, burnt plastic, and urine filled the humid air; dust covered every surface and other than Mickey's original queen sized bed that still sat in the middle of the room, there were two additional twin sized mattresses lying on the floor near the far corner.

Across the room, from what Mickey could see, there appeared to be a few people passed out on those mattresses. As he walked closer, he could see that they appeared to be women.

"Hey, get the fuck up. Time to go, junkies!" Mickey yelled,   
hovering over what looked like a cluster of 3-4 girls lying on top of each other. It reminded Mick of the kind of girls he used to have working for him in the Rub-and-Tug days.

“Ay, yo! You breathing or what? I said wake the fuck up, get the fuck outta my house!" He raised his voice this time, nudging a couple of them with his foot, this time getting a rise out of the girls as they slowly came out of their coma-like state.

“Yeah that's right, out you go; come on ladies, rise and shine, grab your shit.” Mickey's patience was running thin at this point. After all, it was his room.

"What the fuck is goin' on?" a groggy, deeper voice came from under the dog pile of women; slowly, someone sat up, rubbing his eyes with one hand and scratching his oily, sandy blonde hair with the other.

“Iggy? The fuck do you think you're doin'?!" Mickey hollered, surprised, but mainly angry and in need of an explanation as to how Iggy could just let everything go to complete shit.

“Mickey? Is that really you or am I still tripping fucking balls? When the hell did you get back? Barely even noticed your short ass standing there," Iggy replied with a wide grin, obviously still a little high from the night before.

Mickey flipped him off then continued to press the issue. "You've been staying here this whole fucking time and let it get this bad? I mean, fuck, Iggy. I know we never cleaned this place up but you had to bring all your meth head whores here to makes things worse and in my fucking room of all places?"

“Mick, man, you were gone. Everyone else has been gone. I was the last Milkovich standing, bro. Figured that means I finally got first dibs on a room." Iggy didn't see what the issue was. He finally had the whole house to himself and as far as he knew, Mick and his other siblings were never to return.

"Well guess what, shit head. I am back now and I'm getting my room back and you get to help me flip this fucking mattress cause Christ only knows how many hookers you banged on it.   
And speaking of hookers, will you get them the fuck out of here already?" Mickey gestured to the 3 girls crawling around the floor searching for any personal belongings and anything that resembled any remaining drugs.

"Alright, alright, they're leavin'." Iggy stood up, forgetting his pants were around his ankles from the previous night's shenanigans and his manhood was completely out in all it's free-hanging glory.

“Ah, for fuck sake Iggy; put that fucking thing away" Mickey raised his right hand up again this time to block his view of his brother's junk staring back at him. Iggy was already in the process of pulling up his pants and leading the girls out of the room when he replied.

"Chill the fuck out, Mick, you were just in prison and I know for a fact you dropped the soap!" Mickey reached around to try and punch his brother’s arm but Iggy slid by laughing and dodged it, already knowing what was coming.

It took the rest of the day, but the house was finally back to being somewhat decent and Mickey could live with that. They flipped his mattress and Iggy was forced to clean up all the garbage all over the house while Mick went through the kitchen throwing away anything no longer edible, which was basically everything. Together they carried all eleven mattresses out of the house one by one and placed them under the L, figuring some homeless people would get some use outta them. By the evening, Mickey was fucking starving and exhausted.

“Iggy, go get us some cheap shit to eat tonight. I gotta get my ass in the shower," Mickey hollered from the other room.

“You’re lucky I'm fucking starving too cause I sure as hell didn't miss your bossy ass demanding shit all the time!" Iggy yelled back as he walked out the front door to find tonight's dinner.


	2. FUCK-U-UP

After the shower, they ate some $5 pizza. Mickey was completely drained and ready to pass out. Lying on his back staring at the ceiling, he frequently had nights like this. Nights where he just wants to sleep but instead remembers how far he's come, when he really recognizes he is comfortable with himself and proud he's made it this far. It's most likely coming home to this very house in this same old neighborhood that was making him so nostalgic. This house and all the nightmares it held were his everyday reality, but despite all the hurt and suffering, Mickey was confident he would do it all over again. Maybe not the whole going to jail part, but all the bad things he broke free from in his childhood? He'd face it all again if it meant he'd still meet Gallagher.

Another 45 minutes went by and Mickey was lying awake wondering where everyone he once cared so much about had gone to now, now that he was gone as well. Ian probably lived on the Northside now with some super career-driven cupcake, or he might be living back at home just a couple blocks away from where Mick was now. Mandy had better be safe and doing anything she put her mind to, never letting anyone tell her 'no, she can't'. Svet and Yev - she's probably a really good mom in her own crazy Russian Mom way. Yevgeny was guaranteed to be smart and intimidating just like his parents, even at age 6.

Fuck, where does the time go? Seemed like yesterday Mick was breaking out of prison with this whole fantasy plan of living happily ever after on the beach like a couple of old queens. He never thought he'd be back here, in this bed, with all these familiar thoughts stuck in his head.

~

With Mickey still being a wanted man, he had to lay low and wear some type of disguise every time he left the house. Since he was no longer a hot commodity, having been missing for almost three years now, a dress, wig, and heels were no longer needed. The refrigerator was bone dry and Iggy wouldn't stop bitching about the lack of beer and Doritos he became so accustomed to. Mickey didn't mind leaving the house today though. He'd been home for almost a whole week and hadn't left the house once, sure that going out in public with just sunglasses and a beanie on might seem risky; but there was something strangely comforting about being back on the South Side where he was so well known. Maybe it was the high crime rate of the area that kept him comfortable, feeling like he could easily blend in with people rolling blunts and swapping prison stories. They’d never call the cops and snitch on each other.

It was another gloomy, cold January day which made it easy for Mickey to disguise himself. As far as when summertime came, Mick was going to have to come up with some other disguises that didn't involve risking heat stroke. As of now, his faded black jeans, black beanie, same black lace-up shoes, the navy blue shirt that he found under his bed and was pretty wasn't even his, the dark grey coat he borrowed from Iggy, and sunglasses was the best disguise he could come up with. Surprisingly, he wasn't nervous about being recognized, just anxious to get to the store (which was a few blocks away) and get this whole ordeal over with. When he was finally in the store, he left his sunglasses on and immediately picked up a handheld basket, heading down the aisles.

It was just himself and Iggy, and all they ate were sugar cereals, pop-tarts, pizza bagels, chips, Gatorade, beer, beef jerky, beans, and microwaveable meals. Of course, they would also need basic common foods like milk, eggs, and butter; especially if they wanted to eat like kings one night for dinner and make some Kraft Mac & Cheese. Mickey felt accomplished knowing that he and his brother wouldn't starve another night thanks to him. He remembered the last thing he needed; smokes. Cigarettes were stored behind the cashiers now and were expensive as fuck, especially the bigger packs Mickey usually preferred ever since he started smoking a pack a day.

The line at the registers was fairly long, which irritated Mickey enough as it was. There were about 7 people in each line ahead of him, but only two lines were open. Figures. Suddenly, someone called from another register down the row.

“I can start another line down here on register 3!" And that voice... Mickey would recognize that voice anywhere. He unconsciously stepped out of line and followed that voice before his brain had time to force his feet to stay put, but it was already too late.

The lady right in front of Mickey also shifted to register 3 to try and break away from the congestion. Before Mickey knew it there was just this one woman standing in between this voice and himself and any minute now he would see a face to that voice.

"Okay ma'am, your total is 34 dollars and 65 cents. Do you want everything in a bag today?" There is was again. Mickey swore that no matter who that was behind that counter, he wouldn't   
remove his sunglasses or hat. He would not expose himself this early on in public; not for anyone.

"Thank you, ma'am, have a good day. Hi sir, how's your day going so far?" And there it was, that face in all its freckled glory and fiery hair standing about 6 inches taller than Mickey, looking down at all the items over the scanner.

Mickey was frozen but he actually had something to say, he had a lot to say but now was not going to be the time. Instead, he couldn't help himself and simply replied, 'Really? How's my fucking day going?' and watched as two green eyes shot up and met his glasses while nearly dropping the cans of beans he just scanned. 

Ian squinted, trying to see those famous Milkovich blue eyes through those shades but it was practically impossible, and no luck with the hair either because of the beanie. Mickey silently watched in awe as Ian searched him almost head to toe for some real sign that this was, in fact, Mickey Milkovich standing in front of him. Finally, Ian stopped everything he was doing and stared down at the countertop where Mickey's hands calmly rested, FUCK U-UP catching all of Ian's attention.

 

" Mick. But how did you-? When did you-? Why are y-?" Ian was interrupted by an older gentleman and a few middle schoolers also in line behind Mickey, beginning to grow impatient.

"I didn't step into this line expecting it to be slower," the older man muttered. Mickey had to remind himself he was a fugitive that needed to stay calm and undiscovered, and also that it hasn't been his job to defend Ian for a while now.

“I'll be right with you, sir," Ian replied to the man, never once taking his eyes off Mickey.

“Oh, and don’t forget my-," and before Mick could finish his sentence, Ian had grabbed the cigarettes and slid them into the bag.

“No charge for these," Ian smirked.

“Uhh, thanks. See ya." Mickey tossed the exact change on the counter and immediately stormed out of the store.

"What in the actual fuck just happened?” Mickey kept asking himself the entire walk back home, bags of groceries in each hand. The whole scenario seemed so unreal. The last time he saw Ian... wasn't he like an EMT or some shit? Why was he a cashier at some dump on the South Side again? And why did Mickey care so much all of a sudden?

“God damn it, Ian," Mickey whispered to himself as he reached the front door, shaking his head. Mickey couldn't help but want the best for him.

"About fucking time! I'm starving like a damn African child over here!" Iggy whined from the couch.

“Shut the fuck up and come eat something, fat ass" Mickey half-heartedly insulted his brother. Truthfully, he was a little too shaken up to really focus on anything else. "I'll be in my fucking room," Mickey huffed and slammed his door behind him.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, throwing his beanie, glasses, and scarf on the floor, he had no idea what to expect after today, or if anything would even come from this interaction at all. All Mickey knew was that he was done running back to Ian. If he had known Ian worked at that store he wouldn't have stepped within a thousand feet of that street; but fuck, did he look good. Gallagher, even on his shittiest of days, just drew you into him like he had his own gravitational pull.

“Fuck, he must be living back at home," Mickey muttered to himself. How was he supposed to get any sleep for the rest of his days here knowing Ian was only a few blocks away?

"I should've never come back. Stupid fucking idea." Mickey couldn't stop beating himself up over the emotional roller coaster he was already beginning to feel. He reached inside one of the grocery bags he took straight to his room and pulled out his cigarettes, lighting one and inhaling deeply, longing for some relief. "What the fuck am I so worked up about anyway? Gallagher is my past... I moved on in Mexico... eventually." Or so he thought.  
~

It was 20 minutes past 6pm when there was a knock at the front door. Mickey was in the kitchen about to open up a beer from the fridge when Iggy slowly started getting off the couch to answer the door.

"Nah man, it's cool, I got it." Mickey rushed past him, being sure to get to the door first. Iggy just rolled his eyes and sat back down to continue his marathon of America's Most Wanted, keeping a mental checklist of every family member he recognized on the screen.

Mickey didn't even bother looking through the peephole, which, considering the Feds could've been coming for him at any given moment, probably wasn't the smartest way to approach the door, but he just knew that wasn't the case. The door swung wide open and there stood Ian, still in his dark green work shirt and black fitted jeans from earlier, most likely having come straight from work. His red hair was messy with a few stray strands hanging lightly around his face, his freckles spread across his skin like wildfire. The dark green shirt caused his eyes to reflect a deeper green, perfect nonetheless.

“The fuck you want?" Mickey asked, coming across slightly hostile.

“Hey Mick, do you, uh... do you think we can talk?" was all Ian managed. Mick checked behind his shoulder to see if Iggy was paying attention to them at all, and he wasn't, so Mickey slowly stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

" Look, Mickey, I'm-," Ian attempted to start the conversation but was quickly interrupted.

“The fuck you working down at the store for? I thought you were driving ambulances or some shit." Mickey wasted no time, being forward as usual, something Ian always admired about him.

“New meds made my head a little... funny, so they cut my hours at the station down to part-time until I get the O.K. from my doctor that I can return back to full-time shifts and over time. In the meantime, I need some extra money to make up for the pay cut. Trust me, this cashier thing is only temporary," Ian answered with a light chuckle.

“Huh, okay..." Mickey scoffed, trying to act like he wasn't that concerned about Ian's situation anyway. Silence fell between them for a moment, waiting to see who wanted to start the real conversation first. Mickey piped up.

"Look, Gallagher, if you're here to apologize or some shit, I don't got time for it. The past is the past and I've moved on, so as long as we can just play it cool living in the same neighborhood and all, I think we should be square." Ian immediately picked up on the hostility in Mickey's approach and knew him well enough to know it was just a form of defense Mick used to not seem vulnerable.

"Mick, look I know you don't wanna hear it, but when I saw you today in the store, I had this overwhelming feeling of regret that I had ever hurt you. If I could, I would take it all back," Ian confessed while slowly hanging his head to look at the ground.

“Fuck, Ian. I don't know what the fuck you want from me. I mean, we can't keep doing this; I can't keep doing this, you-," Mickey stopped himself before he got too emotional. He swallowed hard and chose his words carefully.

"Ian, what you and I had... broke me." Ian looked up from staring at the ground, meeting Mickey's eyes in the dim evening light. Mickey's demeanor was distant, cold.

"I'm so sorry, Mick. You really do mean a lot to me." Mickey looked away. "Okay, well, uh... maybe I'll see you around then." Ian turned back to walk through the gate out to the sidewalk when Mickey added one last question.

“Ay, you wouldn't happen to know where Svetlana and the kid are nowadays, would you?"

“Still somewhere on the South Side. I'll let you know if I find out," Ian replied, but didn't fully turn around to look at Mickey. His eyes had begun to water as he walked away.


	3. Russian Lying Cum-Guzzling Sex Trap Cunt

Two weeks went by and Ian couldn't get those haunting words out of his head 'What you and I had.. broke me.' Fuck, he had really fucked up some things in his life but losing Mickey was definitely his greatest loss.

"I should've just went to fucking Mexico, what the fuck am I doin' here anyway?" Ian muttered to himself as he walked to the Alibi. Fiona wanted him to drop off V's invitation to Franny's 4th birthday party, mainly so her twin girls could join in on the fun.

“Hey, V..." Ian huffed as he sat on a bar stool and handed her the small pink card.

" Hey, Ian! What's got you all down in the dumps today? You doin' alright with the meds and all?" V always voiced her concerns.  
Ian gave a small side smile, not too convincing, but it was all he could sum up at the moment.

"Yeah, yeah... I'm good. Hey, you wouldn't happen to know where Svetla-"

“EXCUSE ME IAN CLAYTON GALLAGHER, I know you did not just walk up in here calling Satan herself out of her rightful name!" V started preaching and waving her finger in Ian's face. Ian rolled his eyes, then began rewording his question;

“I mean, you wouldn't happen to know where that Russian, Lying, Cum-Guzzling, Sex Trap of a Cunt is living nowadays would you?" V starred at him suspiciously as she leaned across the counter.

“Why do you wanna know all of a sudden?" She asked.

“Look V, it's a yes or no," Ian shot back, not in the mood to play games.

V pursed her lips and leaned back behind the bar. “Last I heard, that lying skank bitch stays over on 1275 East Bonanza Street, Apartment 14,” V confessed, clearly not happy that she was giving out information without any give.

Ian's eyes lit up. "Thanks, V! Uh, see you at Franny's party!" he shouted as he walked out the bar.

This was his shot. He could tell by his last visit with Mickey that he missed Yevy. If Ian could bring them together again, maybe it would prove how much he still cared about Mick and how he'd do anything to help fix things.

He climbed a few flights of stairs until the number 14 was staring back at him. Ian's heart was pounding out of his chest. It wasn't until now that he remembered how terrifying Svetlana could be at times. With a soft knock, the front door opened an inch, with the chain lock still attached to the door. Ian looked in between the cracked door to see bright blue eyes staring up at him.

“Hey Yev, it's me... uncle Ian. Is your mom home?" Ian crouched down in the doorway, meeting the child's height.

“Wait here, I'll get mama," Yevy replied and closed the door. Ian could hear the light pattering of small feet running into another room, then heavier footsteps approaching the door. This was going to be harder than he thought.

The door flew open and there was Svetlana, pretty as ever and aging like fine wine, immediate attitude written all over her face.

"Carrot boy? How you find me?" She questioned, her eyes like daggers on Ian's face.

"Ummm, I asked V..." Ian answered nervously, not sure if he was supposed to give that information or not.

"Come in, sit down, and tell me what you want," she hissed. Ian's leg trembled anxiously as he began to explain himself on Svetlana and Yevgeny's blue couch.

"So, ummm, Mickey's back..." he began.

"And I should give a shit?" Svet spat while lighting a cigarette and sitting on the opposite end of the couch.

“I talked to him. I think he misses Yevy, would maybe wanna meet up with you guys and spend some time together," Ian tried again.

“He gets himself thrown in jail; gay boy heaven, leaves me and baby to fend for ourselves, and only wants you. Now you tell me he wants to see his son? No." Svetlana clearly wasn't hearing it. "I raise Yevy alone, even took care of lovers babies for a while, now it's me and my son, he is all I have and he will not get hurt by you and his father again."

Ian was speechless but then again what exactly did he expect to happen, everything she was saying was true.

"Mama..." Yevgeny emerged from the other room, obviously eavesdropping on the adults' conversation. "Mama, what's happening? What is uncle Ian talking about?" The innocence of such a young child being thrown into this situation made Ian feel nauseous. How selfish could he be, dragging this poor kid into his problems?

Svetlana wasn't sure how to answer her son. She looked back at Ian like she could choke him right then and there, and Ian fully believed she would if Yev hadn't been there.

She swallowed down her pride and suddenly became softer when glancing back at the young boy. "Mama? What's going on?" the small six-year-old with brown hair and bright blue eyes searched for any answer in his mother's eyes. Finally, Svetlana sighed, took in a long drag of her cigarette, and simply replied,

" Папочка дома." Yevgeny gasped with his wide eyes and looked at his mother then back at Ian.

"What? What did she tell you, Yev?" Ian couldn't help but ask, and without missing a beat, Yevgeny replied with a big smile.

“Daddy's home."

"Please, Svet, look how excited Yevy is now. Don't you want him to see his dad? It would mean a lot to him, you know that," Ian begged one last time while walking out of the apartment.

“What about when jailbird goes back to jail and I am left with a crying boy? Who is going to be here for him then, hmm? What good does this do me?" she argued.

“Mama, when am I going to visit Daddy again? I drew a picture for him and I want to share my new stickers with Daddy, do you think he'll like my stickers, uncle Ian?" Yevgeny looked up with so much hope swimming around those blue eyes.

 

"He'll like them a lot, Yevy," Ian smiled down at the kid and scruffed his hair a little.

Svetlana rolled her eyes and met Ian with a death stare. "Fine, we go tomorrow," she proclaimed.

“Tomorrow? Umm, okay, but why tomorrow?" Ian became nervous at the thought of not giving Mickey a heads up before showing up at his house with his ex not-really-wife and kid.

“Yaaay tomorrow!" Yevy shouted and ran to the living room and began jumping with excitement on the couch. Svetlana softly smiled at her son's sudden happiness, then turned to face Ian again.

“You say he misses his son, this should be nice surprise then, yes? Oh, and you pay me just like I paid you to see jailbird before." She gave Ian an insidious smirk before slamming the door in his face. Ian stepped back, took a deep breath in.

“Yeah, okay... tomorrow," he confirmed with himself before heading back down the apartment stairs.


	4. Choked up

It was 11am but Mickey had been lying awake in bed since 9:30. Sleep was almost impossible these days even when he didn't have shit to look forward too and basically nothing to live for. He supposed getting up and taking a shower would be a decent start to his non-productive day. The water felt nice but the shower only took him about 20 minutes. The fuck else was he supposed to do all day? He got dressed in some grey sweatpants and a faded black long sleeved shirt, simple comfy house clothes since he clearly wasn't going anywhere today. He poured himself a bowl of fruit loops and sat on the couch in front of the tv while he ate. Iggy had said he would be gone for a couple days so Mickey was officially home alone and bored out of his mind.

About an hour later Mickey was brushing his teeth in the bathroom when he thought he heard a soft knocking sound. "The fuck?" he muttered after spitting in the sink. Out of habit, he grabbed one of the many hidden guns lying around the living room and tucked it behind his waistband. He looked through the peephole but it was dark like someone had their finger over it. Mickey had no choice but to be ready for war. He placed a hand on the gun behind him and swung the door open, pointing the gun right at Ian's head.

“Surprise!" Yevy yelled.

“Jesus Fuck!" Mickey stumbled back realizing he was ready to shoot his ex-boyfriend in the skull right in front of his ex-wife and son.

"Oh, shit, sorry about that, Mick," Ian apologized. " I know how much you hate surprises." Ian could only imagine how overwhelming this situation was going to be for Mickey.

"Hey daddy, I made this for you! It's a picture of me and you at the park, see! Oh, and Mama bought me some Ninja Turtle stickers the other day and I asked her if I could share them with you and she said I could!" Yevgeny was so excited he couldn't stop talking. Of course, he barely remembered his father or his uncle Ian but that was beside the point. The point was that they were here now and Yev finally had other people around to entertain him. Svetlana stood there in the doorway, unimpressed by Mickey's very presence as usual.

“You going to let us in or watch your child freeze to death?" she pushed her way past Mickey into the house.

"Yeah, nice to see you too, Svet," Mickey shot back. Yevgeny followed his mom inside, already wanting to touch everything and jump on the old couch. Ian hesitated before stepping through the door and looked at Mickey.

I went to go find them for you but I had no idea she'd want to show up today," Ian whispered apologetically.

“Just get your ass inside, Gallagher. I'll deal with you later," Mickey grumbled back irritated.

Mickey put some cartoons on the television for Yev and some decent snacks out, then came and sat on the couch awkwardly in between Ian and Svetlana. Yevgeny got up off the floor with a fist full of Doritos in one hand and Ninja turtle stickers in the other and climbed up on Mickey's lap, no questions asked. Mickey was surprised that after all this time the kid actually wanted to be around him.

“Jesus Christ, kid, you got big," Mickey grinned. Ian could read the wonder and awe written all over Mickey's face when he was admiring Yevgeny. The kid was a spitting image of Mickey, just with a slightly lighter shade of brown hair. Besides that, Mick might as well be looking into a mirror.

A few hours passed and the tv stayed on, but was eventually drowned out by the conversations being had. Mickey would ask Yev simple questions like how old he was, what was his favorite color, and which ninja turtle was his favorite? Of course, every answer Yevy replied with just so happened to be all of Mickey's favorites too.

"You know, kid, when I was your age and Ninja Turtles was my favorite too, I would lie to people and tell them my name was Mikey, and I swear my whole first year of elementary school my teacher actually believed me and called me Mikey every day instead of Mickey," Mick confessed as Yevy laughed while sticking stickers all over his dad's arms.

“I'm going to tell all my friends at school that my dad's name is Mikey and he's a ninja, they'll all think I have the best dad ever." Yevy smiled as he looked up at Mick. Mickey could feel a knot in his throat and carefully scooted Yev back onto the floor so he could step into the kitchen for a minute. Ian could tell something was up so he followed Mick in there shortly after.

" Hey, you okay?" Ian asked, leaning against the door frame.

“Fuck off, man, I'm fine." Mickey groaned as he faced away from Ian, looking down into the sink. He was trying hard to make this lump in his throat go away but couldn't help but get choked up. Finally, a few tears streamed down his cheek and Ian caught him trying to wipe them away.

“Mick, what's up? If this is all too much too soon for you, we can go," Ian reassured but Mickey just shook his head.

“I know that kid doesn't love me, Ian. How can he? I've barely been in his fucking life, he doesn't even know me. He just loves the idea of having a dad. I know, 'cause I've fucking been there. What happens when he gets old enough to know who I really am and what kind of family his last name carries? Then what? He sees what a useless piece of shit I am and regrets the day he met me." Mickey sighed while rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“Listen to me, Mickey. You are what he needs right now. Screw what you've done in the past, this kid needs you around now. I see it, I know Svetlana sees it. You're doing good, okay?" Ian was standing close enough to reach out and touch Mickey's arm now. Mickey didn't bother pulling away.

Mick was at a loss for words. Everything Ian said did make him feel more confident in the situation, and the warmth radiating from Ian's touch was distracting enough to stop Mick's tears completely.

"I just don't want to end up like my dad, you know," Mickey finally spoke up after a moment of fallen silence.

"That's never gonna happen. Me and Svet wouldn't allow it, trust me." Ian gave a small smile and tried to reassure Mickey he had nothing to worry about. Mickey nodded his head and ran a hand through his hair.

" Daddy! Daddy! Mama says we have to leave soon!" Yevy came yelling into the kitchen from the front room with tears in his eyes. "I don't want to leave! I want to live with you!" Svetlana followed her son and also ended up in the kitchen,

“Yevgeny, stop with the tantrum, it is getting late and you have school tomorrow," she remarked.

"But what if I never see daddy again!" Yevgeny burst into tears and clung to Mickey for dear life.

“Hey, hey there little man... look, if you head home with your mom, I promise you can come back and visit next weekend again, okay? Alright?" Mickey patted the child's back in an attempt to calm him down. Yevy slowly looked up at Mickey, meeting their identical blue eyes together.

“You promise? You won't leave? You'll be here when I get back?" Yevgeny whined.

"I will be waiting right here kid, promise." Mickey felt the strangest warm sensation melt through his chest as Yevgeny hugged him goodbye. It had been awhile since he had something to look forward to, and as he watched Yevy hold his mother's hand down the concrete steps at the front of the house, he realized that next weekend couldn't come fast enough.


	5. Do you feel that?

The house was silent. Only Ian and Mickey were left inside. Mickey stood in the living room, biting his bottom lip and pacing back and forth. Ian stood next to the couch, watching intently.

"So uh, I guess I should be heading out now," Ian attempted to settle Mickey's nerves.

“You can stay." Mickey didn't hesitate.

"Are you sure? I mean, I can go, Mick, it's fine, I'll just-,"

"Just stay... please," Mickey insisted.

“Alright, Mick, I'll stay." Ian's voice trembled as he took a step forward, attempting to comfort Mickey. This time Mickey stepped backwards, avoiding the contact. Both stood still now, staring at one another.

“Why did you do that for me? Bring the kid here," Mickey questioned,   
brows furrowed.

"You two seemed like you needed each other. I guess maybe it was bad timing on my part, but you should know there are people that care about you, Mickey." Ian was sincere and actually communicating from a genuine place.

“I don't need your fucking charity," Mickey bit back, carrying a heavier tone than before.

"Look, I know I have always put myself first, I know I run away when things are fucked up instead of facing issues head on, I know I completely fucked up by you and you probably won't ever trust me again. If you don't want to hang out with me, that's fine, but you need to talk to your family, Mick." Ian reached out to grab Mickey's hand.

“The fuck are you doing?" Mickey tensed up but let Ian take his hand.

"I want to show you something," Ian replied and just pulled Mickey in a little closer. "You probably don't want to hear this but I'm going to tell you anyway, and if you want I can tell you this every day if it helps," Ian continued "Besides you, I can admit I've had a lot of partners, lovers, relationships, boyfriends, whatever the fuck you wanna call them, okay?" Ian confessed.

"That's great, Ian. Fucking congratulations," Mickey replied sarcastically, and still with an annoyed tone to his voice. Ian ignored Mickey's obvious attitude and continued to make his point.

“After a while, I realized all I was doing was trying to find something or someone that made me feel even a fraction of how I feel with you, Mick. When you are close to me my heart races so fucking fast it's like I've been dead this whole time or something. I don't get that way with anyone else."

Mickey didn't know what to say, his mouth slightly open, searching for words that could describe how he felt at that exact moment. Before he knew it, Ian was placing his hand on the left side of his chest,

“Here, I'll show you what I mean. Just stand there, keep your hand on my chest, and look at me," Ian demanded.

“Look at you? What the fuck you think I've been doing this whole time, staring at the ceiling?" Mickey's smart ass remark almost ruining the moment.

"No Mick, I mean really look at me," Ian told him again, more serious this time.

“Alright..." Mickey awkwardly obliged. His eyes first looked at his own hand on Ian's chest then slowly began to tilt his head up until his eyes met Ian's. It didn't take long at all for Ian's heart to start pounding, which then caused him to begin breathing heavier; time seemed to stop for only a moment as green met blue once again.

With Ian's now-rapid heartbeat, Mickey began noticing other signs of the effect he seemed to have on the ginger. Mickey being so close, he could see Ian's pulse throbbing on the side of his neck. Ian's skin also began to lightly glisten around his forehead. Mickey was close enough to count every freckle on that perfect face.

“So, do you feel that?" Ian asked, staring down at Mickey's hand still on his chest. "No one else gets me like that. Believe me, I've tried."

Mickey was still speechless as he removed his hand from Ian's grasp. He started to slowly step backwards, hoping some distance would help him clear his head. Mickey quietly admitted to himself, barely enough for Ian to hear, "I never stopped loving you..."

"I know," was all Ian whispered as he began to hang his head.

“You should go," Mickey now insisted.

“You sure? I mean, I could stay if you-,"

"Ian, just go." Mickey's mind was made up for the night. He wanted to be alone.

“Okay, I'll, uh, see you later, I guess." Ian turned and slowly walked out the front door.

Mickey's heart was pounding.  
~  
It was going to be another restless night for Mick. He'd be lucky to get 4 hours of decent sleep, which would require him not replaying all of today's surprises over and over in his head.

First, Yevy and Svet coming over with Ian, and then Ian deciding to pour out his feelings and Mickey actually standing there listening to it all.

Fuck, he thought when he came back home he'd be stronger than this. How was Ian always able to break him and tear down every wall he spent forever building up, walls he built on purpose as protection for himself against times like these. What was even more pathetic was that a six-year-old and a redhead were his fucking bulldozers.

"Jesus, I'm such a fucking pussy," Mickey verbally beat himself up and muttered. It was going to take a pack of cigarettes and a minimum of 5 beers to get any type relaxation.

Luckily, Mickey was already on beer number 3 and starting to feel better. So what if he never got over Ian? What if he wanted to get back together with him? Did that really mean he was weak? At this point, it'd been a couple years and they both had been with plenty of other people, and both came back unsatisfied. Maybe this is where he was destined to be, destined to be stuck in this shit house in a shit neighborhood, hiding from the cops for life.

The fucked up part was he could live with that. He would be perfectly fine living like that; as long as he had Ian.


	6. That tiny Milkovich brother

For the next month, a natural routine took place in the Milkovich home. Mickey would bullshit and be bored all week when Iggy wasn't around and act as if he wished Iggy would just go somewhere else whenever Iggy was around. The truth was that Mickey hated being home alone. He hated the quiet and the loneliness, so on the weekends when Svetlana or Ian would bring Yevy over to the house, Mickey's whole world didn't seem so small anymore. To be honest, he even started to enjoy having Svet around again. Her sharp sense of humor and constant insults were something he was growing fond of. His favorite days were when Ian brought Yev over early Saturday mornings and the three of them spent all day together watching old movies and tickle-torturing the kid. After dinner time, Svetlana would come to pick Yevgeny up and bring him back Sunday morning before she went to work. Mickey was getting comfortable with having a kid around the house and was almost throwing around the thought of Yevy starting to maybe spend the night on the weekends, just to save Svetlana the trouble of course. It had only been a few weeks so far though, and as far as parenting went, Mick knew he still had a long way to go.

This was the sixth weekend in a row that Ian brought Yevgeny over. Both Ian and Mickey were looking forward to a Power Rangers marathon and teaching Yev how to play poker.

"Dad, why don't we ever go somewhere else? Like the park or a toy store?" Yevy looked up at Mick, his boredom getting the best of him today.

“What? You don't like watching shows with me or something? Is that it? You sure weren't complaining last week when you made me and uncle Ian sit through that dumb ass Pokémon shit," Mickey snapped back, his feelings hurt that his son was getting tired of hanging around here with him.

"I think what Yevy is trying to say is we all might have a good time doing something different, Mick," Ian tried to distress the situation,

"Yeah, daddy! Like can we go to an arcade or a baseball game?!" Yevy began to get ahead of himself. Mickey panicked; how was he supposed to be a fun dad if being a wanted felon was going to hinder his chance at having some real father/son experiences with his kid. For fuck sake, even Terry took Mick to a baseball game every now and then. Sure, they had to sneak in and it was always up in the nose bleeders, but still. Dads take their sons to shit like that.

"Maybe some other time, Yev. I'm not sure today is the day for a game," Ian reassured.

Mickey saw the disappointment written all over the kid's face. He wasn't pouting or being a brat, he was genuinely upset and that was something Mickey just wasn't having today.

“C'mon get your shoes on and your jacket," Mickey told Yev

"Are we going somewhere this time, dad?" Yevy's big blue eyes lit up.

"Fuck yes we're going somewhere. You coming or not, Gallagher?"

“Ummm, yeah, sure, I'll go. Where are we going exactly?" Ian hesitated.

“We're going to the Cubs game," Mickey announced while lighting a cigarette as if it was obvious what his plan was.

“Yes! Yes! Yaaay! I have the best daddy ever!" Yevgeny started jumping around and putting on his lost articles of clothing spread across the house.

"You know it's okay for him to be disappointed sometimes, right?" Ian whispered over to Mickey, "You don't always have to be afraid that you're being too hard on him or that you're not a good dad if he's not getting his way, Mick."

“Look, Ian, all I know is that I gotta be better than my dad was to me."

“And you are, Mickey! I told you before, you are nothing like Terry, and me and Svet wouldn't allow it if you were."

"I just-, I need this, alright? Lemme spend some time with my kid and make some memories or some shit outside this fucking house for once." Mickey wasn't taking no for an answer and Yevgeny was already waiting by the front door.

"Yeah, okay, let's go." Ian decided now wasn't the time to finish this conversation.

It was sunny but windy. A lot of people were wearing hats and sunglasses, so Mickey was able to blend right in. The crowd was immense, but where Mickey planned on going they didn't need tickets.

"Ay! Mr. Caroli! Long time no see. This here is my son and his uncle. We need to get into that game that's about to start."

Mr. Caroli must've been in his 70’s and had worked for this field for most of his career as a janitor. He knew every inch and secret entrance to this place and had all keys as well.

“If my eyes don't deceive me I'd say you were that tiny Milkovich brother, the smallest with the loudest mouth." Mr. Caroli squinted his brown, almond-shaped eyes. "Mikhailo, right? Yeah, you and your dad and brothers used to come here back in the day."

“Yeah, but no one calls me that anymore, old man. Mickey is what most say."

"Oh, that's right, that's right. And what is your boy's name here?"

“This is Yevgeny, but you can just call him Yev," Mickey replied.

"Yevgeny? You Milkovich's sure do come up with the oddest names," Mr. Caroli mumbled.

"Yeah, well, as much as I'd like to stand here and talk all damn day, I would kind of like to be seated somewhere before the first pitch is thrown, so you gonna hook me up or what?" Mickey was growing impatient.

"Oh, yeah, sure, sure. Here, take this key; go up to the 4th flight of stairs and you'll see a door with a sign saying 'Custodians only'. Go through there, just don't get caught, and bring me my key back after the game," Mr. Caroli instructed.

"Yeah, thanks, man." Mickey hurried up the stairs, grabbing Yevy's hand with Ian following behind.

It was a great game and the view they had wasn't so bad either. Every time the Cubs hit a home run, Yevgeny would yell, "GOAL!",   
which sent Mickey and Ian almost rolling on the floor they were laughing so hard.

"Yev, how many times do I gotta tell you? Wrong sport, son." Mickey corrected the kid again while laughing hysterically. Ian couldn't take his eyes off Mick's glowing smile and genuine laugh. He hadn't seen Mickey this happy since he jumped in that jeep and road out to the desert with him. Mickey should be this happy all the time; it's an amazing sight to see. Mickey's eyes met Ian's as his laugh calmed down to a light chuckle.

"The fuck you lookin' at?" Mickey smirked and gave Ian a head-to-toe once-over.

"Nothing." Ian gave a flirtatious smile back and shrugged.

After they gave Mr. Caroli his key back and headed out of the park, Mickey was holding Yevy over his shoulder. The kid had so much fun that he passed out, completely exhausted. Mickey carried him the whole way home and waited for Svetlana to come take him home. Knowing he wouldn't see Yev till next weekend, the loneliness crept in.

"I should probably get going, got work and shit tomorrow," Ian awkwardly announced,

"Do you wanna stay? You know, like have a fucking beer or something before you go?" Mick asked eagerly.

"Yeah, sure, just one won't hurt," Ian shrugged off his coat. He had a feeling he'd be staying awhile.


	7. Old piece of furniture

"I still can't get over Yevy yelling GOAL every 10 minutes," Ian smiled while taking a sip of his beer.

"That kid is fucking hilarious, man. Cracks me up," Mickey replied with a smirk as he inhaled on his cigarette. “Today was a good day. Like a really fucking good day." Mick looked up at the ceiling, reminiscing.

"Yeah, it was. I love seeing you this happy, Mick. I'm glad I was a part of it," Ian confessed. Mickey looked over at Ian, gave him that same head-to-toe once-over he had given him earlier while unconsciously licking his lips.

"So if you wanna make things right so bad, why haven't you told me you still love me?" Mickey made it clear this was a question that needed answering, no bull shit.

“I've never stopped loving you," Ian simply replied. "I know my actions say otherwise but... you're it for me, Mick. All I want. I'd do anything to fucking prove it to you. I still love you."

Mickey looked away. He wanted to believe Ian, he really did. Most of him was beginning to believe Ian but then flashbacks of wearing a humiliating dress, and tears, and pain all came flooding into his mind to help him build his walls back up again.

"Mickey, we were doing great. Don't let me in just to shut me out again... please." Ian could always read every expression on Mick's face. He knew he was beginning to regress as he always did the moment Ian started climbing over his walls.

"I'm not fucking shutting you out, Ian. I'm already shut down. I'm trying to let you in!” Mickey finally admitted in frustration. The room fell silent and Mickey could feel Ian's eyes on him from across the couch like daggers. Eventually he couldn't help but look up and face him.

“If this is too hard for you, tell me now and I won't bother you anymore. If you want me gone, just tell me." Ian stood up, placing his beer on the small table, and began reaching for his jacket to head towards the front door.

"Jesus Christ, Ian, you always gotta be so overdramatic. Fine. Leave. The hell do I care?!" Mickey stood up as well, pointing at the doorway. 

Ian threw his head back and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. He shook his head. “I might be dramatic, but at least I'm not the one full of shit. Stop acting like you don't care about me, Mick. Like you don't care about us!"

“Fuck you, you made me like this, you piece of shit!" Mickey yelled back, but it didn't sound as aggressive as he had hoped, his voice cracking from that lump forming in the back of his throat again.

"Are you...? Are you crying, Mick?" Ian sounded concerned and took a step forward away from the door, setting his coat back on the table.

“Just fuck off. Leave like you always do. Don't fucking worry about me, I can take care of myself," Mickey sobbed, turning away.

“And you call me dramatic," Ian smirked. Mickey let out a light laugh.

“Eat me, you fucking dick," he half-heartedly insulted while giving Ian the finger.

“Alright, well like I said, I'm not here to bother you. If you really want me to go, I guess I'll leave. Sorry." Ian wasn't being argumentative anymore. He seemed apologetic. Ian picked up his jacket again, put it on this time, and started stepping away, not sure if Mickey wanted his space.

"Don't," Mickey muttered.

"Don't what?" Ian paused

“Just... don't..." Mickey whispered, looking up at Ian. Ian didn't need any more confirmation. He knew what Mickey meant and he knew what he needed.

"Come here,” Ian demanded as he met Mickey halfway across the room.

Open mouthed, they collided, Mickey's hands immediately caressing Ian's every inch, sliding the leather jacket off his shoulders, Ian already coming apart at the seams. Their tongues intertwined as Ian laced his fingers through Mickey's dark hair. After all this time, both men remembered exactly how the other liked it. Already undressing, they began backing up towards the couch. Ian removed his shirt and began lifting Mickey's shirt. Mick broke away from their kiss and paused.

"What? What's wrong?" Ian breathed heavily

“I, uhh... I got your name covered," Mickey awkwardly confessed.

Ian laughed. “No way, lemme see." 

Mickey sighed and removed his shirt. On his chest was a heart with blue roses behind it, a grey dagger stuck straight through it. The banner across the tattoo read, “never again”.

It was heartbreaking because Ian knew the whole meaning behind the tattoo the minute he laid eyes on it. Without further hesitation, Ian kissed Mickey's chest and up his neck. Shivers ran down Mickey's spine as Ian's warm breath and tongue surrounded his ear. Mickey's jeans and boxers hit the floor and Ian dropped to his knees.

"Fuck," Mickey whimpered as Ian wasted no time fitting Mickey entirely in his mouth. Ian knew there were three different ways Mickey liked his sex: one, being quick and rough; a fast fuck if you will. Two: gentle, soft, and loving but with good, hard strokes. And lastly: deep, focused, but dirty. Tonight was going to be option number three. As Mickey ran his fingers through Ian's ginger locks, he watched Ian glide from base to tip, then flatten his tongue so Mickey could see him lick all around the head of his throbbing cock. Ian took Mickey back in, down his throat and then out again. Mickey's legs started shaking as he threw his head back in amazement, almost missing Ian save some of Mickey's pre cum in his mouth and spit it on his fingertips, a string of saliva on his bottom lip still connecting him to Mickey. It made the perfect lubricant to start warming Mickey up. Still on his knees, Ian reached around Mickey's waist and inserted a finger, then slowly, a second.

“Fuck, right there," Mickey exhaled and Ian knew he was almost ready.

"Get on the couch," Ian demanded as he stood up from the floor. Mickey wasted no time leaning himself over the old piece of furniture.

“You better go fucking deep," Mickey panted.

“I'm sorry, have we met?" Ian teased as he settled in right behind Mick.

“Stop being a smart ass and get on me," Mickey hollered back, but Ian had a better idea. He placed the palms of his hands on each of Mickey's cheeks and parted them, then went face first between them.

“Ahhh shit," Mickey moaned as Ian licked all around and lightly inside him, his back naturally arching to the dipping motion of Ian's tongue. Finally, Ian decided it was time to enter. He left light kisses and bites up Mickey's back as he settled in.

“Fuck, Mick, you're tight" Ian groaned, thrusting forward. Mick whimpered under the intense pressure. Ian began to pick up the pace, going a little deeper and harder each time.

“Right there," Mickey panted, his brows furrowed, trying to concentrate on making this last but he was so close. "Fuck, I'm almost there," he whined as his body began to shudder.

Ian wasn't going to let him off that easy. He pulled out right at the last minute.

"Ian, what the fuck?!" Mickey cried.

“Lie down," Ian demanded, and again, Mickey obliged. He laid flat on his back as Ian hovered over him, instantly intertwined in a sea of limbs. Mickey's arms and legs caressed Ian's waist as he bit into the redhead's neck and shoulders,

“Harder," Mickey exhaled into Ian's ear. Ian turned his head to meet Mickey's tongue with his again. They were sloppy but sensual, both covered in sweat, pre-cum, and saliva; exactly how they wanted it. Ian pounded aggressively into him while stroking Mickey softly. He could feel Mick's fingertips digging into his back. He was close.

“Faster," Mickey moaned, and Ian went full force. Suddenly, a creaking noise distracted the two as the old couch collapsed to the floor, causing Ian to roll off and grab Mickey for support.

“Oh shit!" Ian yelled as he landed on his back, conveniently dragging Mickey down on top of him.

“Ow! The fuck?!" Mickey groaned. It took a minute for them both to realize what just happened and what position they were now left in.

"We broke the fucking couch!" Ian laughed "Damn, I'm good," he smiled up at Mickey, who now on top.

“Don't get too cocky, Gallagher. You get to buy us another one," Mickey smiled back.

“We gonna finish where we left off, or...?" Ian smirked as he began to let his hands roam all over Mickey's chest, gliding over his nipples and up to reach Mickey's throat where he put light pressure. Mickey didn't mind the manhandling in the least bit and slowly positioned himself back onto Ian.

" Fuck, Mick, I like that..." Ian closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the warm sensation as Mickey began to ride him.

Heavy breathing and moaning filled the quiet house, the two completely nude on the hard cold floor with nothing but warmth between them. Mickey's eyes rolled back as his entire body shivered on top of Ian's, Ian holding onto Mickey's thighs for dear life as they clapped against his.

“I'm gonna cu-," is all Ian whined before completely overflowing inside Mick, Mickey spilling all over Ian's chest.

Mickey slowed down his panting as his cum began dripping down the side of Ian's rib cage. They decided to end the night literally with a bang.


	8. God fucking damn it, Ian

The following morning Mickey woke up to the sound of Ian rustling through dresser drawers. He sat up, rubbing his eye with the palm of his hand. 

“Ian, the fuck are you doing?" He groaned.

"Borrowing a shirt. I used mine from yesterday to clean up last night," Ian replied as he pulled out a grey short sleeved shirt with a pocket on the front. It was a tight fit, but it would do. 

“Looks good," Mickey complimented with a smirk.

 

“I know," Ian smiled back. Mickey rolled his eyes as he got out of bed and headed towards the bathroom.

“Take a quick shower and get ready to go," Ian called.

“Go? Go where?" Mickey asked.

“We're going couch shopping," Ian laughed.

In the shower, Mickey reminisced about the night before. It felt unreal and almost too good to be true. Under the warm water, he began to feel sick to his stomach. It was only a matter of time until Ian left again.

At the furniture store, Mickey was clearly distracted and distant; Ian was trying to make this fun for them but Mickey wasn't in the mood.

“What color do you want, Mick? Maybe you should do a leather one this time!" Ian tried to get an opinion.

"I don't care, just pick one," Mickey replied, aggravated.

“Hey, this is for you. I owe you.., so pick one," Ian insisted. "It's about time I do something nice for my boyfriend," Ian smiled.

That's when Mickey lost it. 

"Boyfriend?! Who said you were my fucking boyfriend? You're not," Mickey hissed. Ian stepped back, shocked at the sudden change in Mickey's demeanor.

“Mickey, I... I just thought we... we were-,"

"Yeah, well, we're not!" Mickey yelled. The employees and other customers started staring at the small brunet man yelling in the middle of the store.

“Just fucking pick one and get that shit sent to my house, I can't do this anymore. I'm done." Mickey snapped.

“I don't understand. We were doing good, what's wrong with you?!" Ian was confused.

“I don't want to see you anymore, okay, so just fuck off. THE FUCK ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!!" Mickey screamed at the eyes on him as he stormed out the store.  
~

Two weeks went by, that was two weekends in a row that Yevgeny came over to visit and Ian was nowhere to be found.

“Daddy, where's uncle Ian? I miss him," Yevy questioned his father.

“Fuck if I know, kid. Don't worry about what he's doing; we got better things to do today. We're gonna head over to the park." Mickey tried to cheer up the six year old as they walked. When they got to the park, Yevy just sat on the swings, looking down at the ground as he barely moved.

“Come on, Yev, lemme see how high you can go," Mick called out,

“Why didn't uncle Ian come to the park with us? He always said he liked the park too," Yevy sighed.

“Look, little man, uncle Ian won't be coming around that much anymore, okay; It's just you and me now," Mickey said as he sat on the swing next to Yevy. "I bet I can go higher than you," Mick teased, smiling at his son. Yevy glanced up at him with a small smile.

“Bet you can't!" he told his dad as he started swinging his little legs back and forth.  
~

It had been two weeks since Ian charged his phone. iI was completely dead and therefore his alarms set to take his pills hadn't reminded him for weeks now. No point in having a phone when there is nothing in life to look forward to. He felt useless; everyone around him was continuing on with their lives. Meanwhile, Ian hadn't gotten out of bed for three days. No one was ever home anymore anyway and with Ian being so quiet, whoever did come home didn't notice he was there. Even without his phone on, Ian knew how many times a day he was supposed to take his pills. The problem was that he also ran out of pills around the time everything happened with Mickey, and he never made it back for a refill on his prescription. At this rate his grocery store cashier position was over after no call/no showing for a week straight, and he was due to be back on the ambulance tomorrow after taking a leave of absence. 

Finally, he managed to get out of bed and roam downstairs. He looked in the fridge, but there was nothing to eat - just a carton of orange juice. It would have to do. He took a few gulps, then looked over at the sink to see a pile of dirty dishes. He might as well do them since he's home.

Lip walked into the Gallagher house around 7:30 that night to find the house spotless and the furniture moved all around. Ian was on his hands and knees with a wash rag scrubbing the floor in the kitchen

“Oh, fuck," Lip breathed and immediately went to Ian's side. "Hey man, the house looks, um, clean," he eased into confronting his brother.

“Yeah, this place is filthy, you know, and I just figured since I'm home I should tidy up a bit," Ian responded, still staring at the now nonexistent scuffs on the floor.

“Tidy up? You could perform surgery on that I floor it's so sterile," Lip replied with his usual sarcasm. "Hey, man, uhh... how long have you been at this? All this cleaning?" He asked.

“Don't know. Phone is dead, so I haven't checked the time. Few hours, probably. Not that long." Ian was sensing the concern in Lip's voice, so he immediately began to downplay the current situation.

“When's the last time you took your meds, man?" Lip questioned,

"Don't worry about it, I'm fine. I'll be going back to work tomorrow," Ian snapped as he walked into the living and sat on the coffee table. Lip followed his brother and sat on the couch. Silence fell between them as Lip tried to choose his words carefully.

“You can't go to work if you're manic, Ian," Lip sternly said. Ian stared at his brother, giving him the chin. "What time are you supposed to go in tomorrow?" Lip lowered his voice.

“10am," Ian lied.

“Alright, I'm gonna be up at 9 to make sure your ass stays home. Okay?"

 

“Alright, whatever." Ian rolled his eyes as he rose to his feet and went upstairs to bed.  
~

Svetlana came to pick up Yevy around 8 that night. As she buckled him in the car, Yevy told her about uncle Ian not coming back. She told him to stay in the car while she went to talk to Mickey. Still standing at his front door, he saw Svetlana leave the car and come back towards him.

“He forget something?" Mickey asked.

"Where is carrot boy?" She hissed.

“How the fuck should I know?! The fuck do you care anyway?!" Mickey became defensive under Lana's intimidating tone.

“He promised he would be here for Yevgeny. I told him to never hurt my son again," she hollered.

“Well, he's not coming around anymore, alright. I don't fucking want him here," Mickey bit back.

"No. You fix this. Now. Carrot boy wanted things better, it's you who's being stupid." Svetlana refused to be shut down, "You send Ian away. You hurt Yevgeny. You hurt Yevgeny. I burn down house with you in it." She pointed her finger at Mickey's chest then turned and walked away.

Mickey was left standing on the porch, speechless and aggravated. He bit his lip and kicked the old dresser before going back inside. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to Ian.

Ian had to be at work by 6am and knew he'd be long gone into his shift by the time Lip woke up. He lied because he couldn't afford to lose this job. So maybe he was a little manic, but it was definitely manageable. All he had to do was drive the ambulance around and occasionally save someone's life - no big deal. 

He snuck out of the house around 5:30 and made it to work just in time. Sue was already loading up the ambulance and welcomed Ian back. Together, they set out on their first call and Ian jumped in the driver's seat. Sue went on to talk about her plan for the summer with her daughter but the truth was Ian wasn't paying any attention. His mind was racing uncontrollably to the point that he almost sat through a green light.

“Ian, come on, we gotta go!" Sue yelled

"Oh, yeah, sorry." Ian shook his head and pressed the gas.

“You feeling okay today?" Sue took a moment to observe Ian and she noticed he seemed off. "Gallagher, I want you to pull over and let me drive," she insisted,

“No, Sue! I'm fine! Let's just get to this call!" Ian refused.

“That was an order, Ian! Pull over now!" Sue yelled.

"I'M FINE!" Ian looked over at Sue and ran a red light, not seeing a truck cross right in front of them.

“IAN, WATCH OUT!" Sue screamed right before the ambulance hit the side of the truck.  
~  
Lip woke up to an empty house. He checked every room and Ian was nowhere to be found.

“God fucking damn it, Ian." Lip threw his phone against the wall when his brother didn't answer. Everyone else in the family was away; the only other person Lip could think of to help was Mickey. Lip was anything but stupid and noticed something was going on with Ian about two months ago. He bothered Ian until finally, he found out the magnificent Milkovich boy was home and back to fucking his brother, or at least he assumed. He ran down to the house on Zemansky Road and banged on the front door. Iggy came to the door still half asleepgrown-ups

“Do you know what fucking time it is, man? Fuck off." Iggy went to close the door in Lip's face just as fast as he had opened it.

"Yeah, it's 9:37am and I need to talk to Mickey. Is he home?" Lip rushed.

“Oh, for fuck sake. I don't know why he even bothers with you fucking Gallaghers. Hang on," Iggy mumbled as he walked toward the back of the house yelling Mickey's name.

"The fuck, Iggy! Fuck you yelling like the house is on fire or some shit! Getting me out of bed this early like I won't shoot you in your fat fucking face." Mickey came out of his room in boxers and a tank top, rubbing his eyes, irritated.

“Shut up, there's someone at the door for you, shit head." Iggy pushed past Mickey and went back to bed. As soon as Mickey saw who it was, he caught an immediate attitude.

"Not the Gallagher I was expecting. The fuck do you want?"


	9. Go home

"Ian's been off his meds. Did you guys break up or something?" Lip immediately began questioning.

“We weren't together," Mickey harshly replied.

“Oh, bullshit, Mickey. He's still Fucking crazy about you and you know it," Lip insisted.

“Doesn't mean I want to be with him," Mick spat.

“Don't you though?" Lip wasn't really asking as much as he was making a point.

“No..." Mickey looked away. "Sorry Ian's off again but it's really not my fucking problem anymore." He went to close the door on Lip just as Lip’s cell phone rang. Mickey paused, assuming it was probably Ian giving Lip the confirmation he needed to finally leave Mickey alone.

“Hello? Wait.. wait, what? Uhhh, yeah, yeah sure. I'll be right down." Lips eyes glazed over with tears as he looked up at Mickey and calmly told him, "Ian was in an accident. He's in the hospital." 

Lip was clearly in way over his head,

“Let's go." Mickey didn't hesitate as he grabbed his jacket, a pair of Iggy’s pants lying on the floor and his car keys as they ran to the old family car.

When they arrived at the hospital, they asked if they could see Ian immediately. First, the nurses needed some information regarding Ian and his relationship to said patient.

“I'm his brother," Lip told them.

“Okay, and you, sir?" The nurse glanced over to Mickey,

“Uhh, boyfriend," Mickey answered. Lip gave Mickey a look that clearly said, "I knew it," and Mickey just rolled his eyes.

“Ok, well it looks like Ian was brought in unconscious, along with his co-worker. He suffers from a mental illness, correct?" Lip and Mickey just nodded yes. "He's stable now, but hasn't woken up yet. Hive it about 10 minutes and I'll have someone escort you to his room," the nurse calmly stated.

“Thanks," was all Lip said before he started walking towards the waiting room and eventually had a seat, Mickey following close behind. The two were silent for the entire 10 minutes, which, to them, felt like a lifetime. Finally, a lady came for them and they followed her to a room down the hallway,

“He's been given a few different medications, some for pain, some for his bipolar disorder. He might be a little out of it when he wakes up," the nurse warned before leaving them alone in the room with Ian.

Ian was asleep in the hospital bed, a bunch of different wires attached to him to monitor his functions.

“Does he really need all that?" Mickey looked over at Lip with worried eyes.

“I mean for now, probably," Lip sighed "Fuck Ian... shit, man.." Lip rubbed his eyes as they began to water.

“I should call Fiona and everyone, tell them what happened now that I know he's okay. I'm gonna step out for a second," Lip told Mick. Mickey just nodded his head in acknowledgment. He couldn't take his eyes off Ian. After Lip left the room, Mickey sat in a chair next to Ian's bed. He held Ian's hand as tears streamed down his face.

"Ian... the fuck were you thinking... I- I could've lost you.." Mickey whispered as he used the palm of his free hand to dry his eyes.

This definitely put things into perspective. Who was Mickey trying to fool? Without Ian, he wasn't complete. Mick felt Ian's finger twitch in his hand. He watched those green eyes flutter back to life and couldn't help but start to smile.

“Hey," Mickey softly spoke.

Ian focused his eyes on Mickey, then the room. Confused, he asked what happened.

“You were in a car accident at work." Suddenly, it all came back to him

“Sue... Sue! Where's Sue? Is she okay?" Ian panicked.

"They said she came in unconscious, just like you... I don't know what's going on, though. I'm glad you’re okay," Mickey sighed in relief, but Ian was mortified.

What if Sue wasn't going to be okay? How could he live with himself? Lip came back into the room,

“Hey, man, you woke up! How you feeling?" He asked.

“I'm fine. Can I go home now? Do you know if Sue is okay? Can I see her?" Ian begged.

“Well when I was out there, the nurse said you both seemed to have woken up, so yeah, I'm assuming she’s okay," Lip replied.

Ian instantly relaxed, knowing he didn't have the death of a friend on his shoulders.

“Did you want the rest of the family to come here and see you or?" Lip asked.

“Nah, I'll see everyone when I get home," Ian confirmed. Mickey was still holding Ian's hand this whole time, sitting there as quiet as he'd ever been, staring. He refused to let Ian out of his sight until he was officially home and safe.

“Alright, well, thanks for coming with me, Mick. I got it from here if you wanna head out," Lip assumed.

“Nah, I ain't leaving, but you can, though," Mickey snapped back. Ian squeezed his hand and gave him a look, telling him to play nice.

“Well, it should be up to Ian who he would like to stay with him tonight," Lip insisted.

Without hesitation, Ian told Lip to go home.

“Oh, because NOW he's your boyfriend. Okay, I get it, whatever." Lip walked out with one last sarcastic remark.

"How you feeling?" Mickey was concerned.

“I'm fine, Mick, really. I'm just tired and want to get these damn wires off me," Ian yawned.

“Yeah, well I'm pretty sure those are important so how about you leave them on for now, tough guy. Try taking a nap or something," Mickey teased.

“I'll sleep if you sleep," Ian smiled. God, it was good to see that smile.

“Yeah, okay," Mickey laughed as he stood up and crawled into the hospital bed with Ian. Facing each other, Ian's heavy eyes began to slowly shut as Mickey stroked the ginger’s hair. As soon as Ian fell asleep, Mickey placed a soft kiss on his forehead and closed his eyes. Ian's heart monitor began beeping more rapidly. His heart rate increased, even in his sleep.


	10. Jellyfish

Ian came home to the Milkovich house after being released from the hospital. He was immediately put back on his meds and back to his usual self. Mickey decided to surprise Yevgeny with Ian's return this weekend. As Svetlana knocked on the door, ready to rip into Mick if Ian wasn't back, Ian purposely answered the door and Yevy lit up.

“Uncle Ian!" The 6-year-old attached himself around Ian's legs and smiled. "I knew you'd come back to take me to the park," Yevy cheered.

“Carrot boy," Svetlana smirked, clearly glad to see him in herself-defensespecial way.

“Hey, Svet. Missed me?" Ian teased as Lana rolled her eyes. "Alright, Yev. We are gonna go somewhere pretty cool today." Ian looked down at the kid.

“Really?! Where?! Where?!" Yevy begged.

“The Aquarium!" Ian cheered. Yevgeny looked at his mom

“Okay, mama, bye. I'll see you later. I gotta go with uncle Ian now, bye." Yev began to close the front door in his mom's face. Svetlana just shook her head and laughed

“Be good, Yevy," is all she said as she left the house.

Mickey came out of the bathroom to see his son beaming and bouncing off the walls with excitement.

“Jesus Christ, you must've told him where we are going today," Mickey assumed.

“The aquarium!!!!" Yevy yelled while bouncing on the new brown couch.

“Hey, careful on that thing. Your uncle Ian bought that couch," Mickey glanced over at Ian with a “you might just have to buy another one once we’re done with it" face. Ian shyly smirked. He still couldn't believe they broke furniture. Damn, they were good. Finally, they headed out the house and on their way to the aquarium.

There was so much to see, and a special kids tour that Yevy was dying to be a part of, so of course Mickey said yes. A tour guide would take a small group of kids ages 5+ around a small section to touch stingrays and watch the sea otters. It only took about 20 minutes. This was plenty of time for Ian and Mickey to venture off into their own world together. 

Ian wanted to see the jellyfish, so Mick followed. It was a dark room with a large tank built into the walls, full of jellyfish of all different types and sizes. Mickey watched as Ian's eyes lit up in wonder and awe. It was safe to say Mickey had realized it was times like these where if you have something to say you shouldn't hold back, because within seconds life can take someone away from you.

"You know, I love it when you're like this. I mean, I love you anyway, but I really fucking love when you look like this." Mickey didn't hold back. Ian looked over at him, slightly surprised to hear Mickey being so forward in such a nonaggressive way.

“Oh yeah? Well, I really fucking love when you look at me like that.” Ian stepped closer, crowding Mickey's space.

Mick stared up at him, their foreheads and noses lightly brushing against one another; so close. Ian lightly pushed Mickey's back up against the tank glass. Mickey reached one hand on the back of Ian's neck, pulling him in. Their mouths met softly as Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey's waist. All other families and aquarium staff were busy watching the dolphin show so these two were alone at last.

As their tongues touched, the heat radiating off Ian's body made Mickey's head spin. He could just let Ian take him right here, right now. Ian pushed up against Mickey a little harder, grinding their bodies together, becoming one.

Any minute now and Mickey would drop to his knees to make sure Ian was ready for him. That was, until a crowd of young children came flooding into the jellyfish room. Ian jumped off Mickey and brushed his hair back into place with his fingers and Mickey adjusted his clothes. Yevgeny came running across the room and leaped into Mickey's arms

“Daddy! Daddy! I touched the stingray!" Yevy yelled.

“You did?! That's pretty cool, kid!" Mickey laughed, then glanced nervously at Ian.

“Hey, Yev, it's getting late. Why don't you pick out a toy from the gift shop and then we will start heading back home, okay? By the time we get home and you eat dinner your mom should be picking you up," Ian suggested.

“Yes! I get a toy too? This is the best day ever!" Yevy ran to the gift shop.

The whole ride home, Yevgeny couldn't stop talking about all the different fish he saw and things he learned. The toy he chose was a stuffed animal - a white beluga whale, which was one of the aquarium's main attractions. 

When they arrived home, they ordered a quick pizza, which was easily devoured by everyone and watched a few cartoons until Svetlana came to pick the kid up. Mickey and Ian promised to see Yevy next weekend and sent him off. The second the door shut, Mickey grabbed Ian by the hand and dragged him to the bedroom. Ian shut the bedroom door behind him and stared into Mickey's deep eyes.

“Take off your fucking clothes," Mickey demanded. Ian smiled and began undressing. Once Ian's pants were off, Mickey pushed him onto the bed. It only took a few seconds before his head was between Ian's legs.

“Holy shit, oh god," Ian moaned to the heavens. Mickey seemed starved as he graciously choked on Ian's length.

Finally, Mickey came up for air and was met by Ian's tongue. Ian reached down and slowly started handling Mickey, both panting into each others neck. Ian used force to roll Mick onto his side. After positioning himself comfortably on his side, Ian closed in behind him, slowly entering Mickey.

“Fuck," Mickey exhaled while reaching around to bring Ian closer. Ian nuzzled to his ear and sucked Mickey's neck. One hand laid resting on top of Mickey's hip, rocking him back and forth, letting Ian in and out. Low volume moaning filled the room as the bed creaked in rhythm. Mickey's brows furrowed in concentration. He was going to ride this out as long as he possibly could. He wanted Ian to wreck him.

“I want it hard," Mickey whined.

“Whatever you want," Ian whispered in his ear as he placed one hand lightly around Mickey's throat, the other grabbing onto his hip. He began to thrust into Mickey harder than before while gaining some speed.

“Fuuuuucckk Ian, Jesus... Oh, fuck.." Mickey cried as Ian's hips slammed into Mickey's lower back. Ian was going to finish any minute now and he could tell Mickey was about to burst as well. With no further interruptions, Mickey's whole body shivered as Ian's followed. Ian immediately pulled Mickey in close for a kiss, and they eventually fell asleep naked in each other's arms.


	11. I’m a changed man

It was around 8am when Mickey was woken up by banging at the front door. It was definitely too heavy of a knock to be Svetlana or Yevy, and Iggy wasn't coming back for a couple days. He hopped out of bed and rubbed his eyes, looking for a pair of boxers in the mix of clothing they left on the floor last night. He put them on and stood up to head out of the room, giving the sleeping ginger one last look over before closing the bedroom door behind him.

The knocking persisted and Mickey figured if it was the cops looking for him, they probably would've busted down the door by now. He grabbed a handgun from one of the tables and tucked it in the back of his boxers as he walked to the door. Just as a precaution, he checked through the peephole. Some old guy was faced away from the house, wearing a light blue polo shirt and khakis. Mick could tell he was older because of his white, buzz-cut hair.

“Who the fuck wears khakis in this neighborhood? That's just asking to be shot.” Mickey muttered to himself.

 

Probably some bible thumper. Mickey rolled his eyes and opened the door wide. "We already fucking found Jesus, now fuck off!"

That's when the older man turned and faced the door and Mickey immediately stumbled backwards, snatching the gun from behind his waistband and point it, his hands shaking with fear.

“The fuck you plan on doing with that, son? Shooting me?" Terry laughed.

“Why.... why are you out? Why... why are you here?" Mickey's voice trembled, not putting the gun down just yet.

“I'm out, kid. Decided to come home. I'm a changed man, I want to start over and be there for my kids," Terry smiled.

“I'm gonna count to three and you need to walk the fuck away before I pull this fucking trigger," Mickey threatened.

“Come on, son, leave the past in the past. I've been gone a long time now and turned my life around. Just give me a fucking chance, huh?" Terry pleaded, raising his hands up to try and lower the gun pointed in his face. "Come on, Mick, let's just talk for a fucking second, yeah?" Terry insisted again.

Every bone in Mickey's body was telling him to blow his father's brains out right here but Terry had always had a hold on his kids, no matter how abusive he was. It was that trauma and abuse that kept his control over his children. He slowly began to lower the gun.

“I won't fucking shoot you... but I don't want you here. You need to go," Mickey said calmly, but wouldn't look Terry in the eyes.

“I get it, Mick, really, I do... but this is my house, so I'm not leaving. Move." Terry shoved Mickey over as he stepped into the house. "You got a new couch, huh? I liked the old one better," Terry smirked.

He went to the kitchen a grabbed a beer out of the fridge, sat on the couch, and began watching tv. Mickey was only in his boxers but had to step outside and get some air. His head was spinning like his worst nightmare was coming true, his lungs felt tight and his vision blurred. He couldn't fathom being that scared kid stuck under his father's roof again, and Ian- fuck. he almost forgot Ian was still here.

Mickey opened the door to come into the house to find Ian just walking out of the bedroom. They stopped and stared at each other. At first, Ian didn't notice Terry on the couch, just saw the terror on Mickey's face. Ian's attention then went to the tv and then the person watching it.

"What the fuck!" Ian yelled automatically as he caught his breath. It felt like someone punched his chest but it was pure shock.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!" Ian yelled again. Terry turned his head and glanced over at Ian like nothing was wrong,

“Oh, it's you... I should be asking you the same thing, gingerbread," Terry chuckled and paid attention to the television again. Ian looked back at Mickey, both speechless and nauseous. Eventually, Ian pulled Mickey back into the bedroom to talk.

“Mick, you have to make him leave. Why is he even here?!" Ian started.

"I have no fucking clue, Ian. I just woke up to someone at the door and it was him. I almost fucking shot him, and he just.. I don't know, he fucking let himself in." Mickey's hands were shaking as he lit a cigarette.

“Well, he can't just stay here. Your dad is a fucking psycho,   
Mick!" Ian was getting frustrated.

“There's nothing I can do, Ian! It's his fucking house. He's out now. He's free and I'm not. I need to lay low, I can't be starting fights and issues with him and risk getting caught. Last time we fought, I almost got arrested, remember." Mickey ran his fingers through his hair. He wanted to fucking scream.

“How has he not killed you or even me for that matter? Why is he so calm out there?" Ian asked.

“He said something about being a 'changed man' or some shit," Mickey shrugged.

“What does that even mean?" Ian asked again.

“Fuck if I know." Mickey shook his head.

"Well, something has to be done, Mick. You don't actually believe his 'changed man' bullshit, do you?" Ian was pacing around the room. You could cut the tension in the house with a knife.

“I don't know, Ian. He's so different, I don't know what to think," Mickey confessed.

“So that's it, you're just gonna let him stay?" Ian questioned.

“I don't exactly have a fucking choice, Ian." Mickey rubbed his eyes.

“Fuck, Mick, don't you see it's already starting all over again?   
Your dad has this fucking hold on you where whenever he is around, you lose all control of your life, just like when you married Svet!" Ian was trying to open Mickey's eyes to the reality of the situation. "He can say he's changed, but this just proves he hasn't and he never will," Ian sighed.

“Ian, my fucking hands are tied. I either put up with his shit or fight him and most likely go back to prison, and I'm never going back." Mickey laid back on the bed.

“If you're not gonna figure something out, I guess I will," Ian huffed as he stormed out of the room.

Ian and Terry scowled each other as Ian walked past the living room and out the front door. His first thought was to bring Mickey to the Gallagher house, which would've worked in the past, except Fiona was a business woman now and couldn't risk her reputation by keeping a fugitive in her home. She would never go for it. Ian's only other option was to get another Milkovich involved. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Mandy. On the third ring, she answered.

“Ian?!... Ian? Everything okay?" Mandy answered in a panic; her and Ian didn't talk much anymore, unfortunately, and given Ian’s circumstances, random phone calls like this before any text messages were concerning.

“Hey, Mandy. Yeah, it's me, uh, Ian. Everything is fine... well, not exactly fine," Ian awkwardly stumbled over his words.

“Well, spit it out! What's wrong!" Mandy grew anxious.

“Ummm... I'm at your house, with Mickey... and Iggy... and Terry."


	12. Milkovich’s don’t cry

They talked for an hour on the phone about everything that led up to this moment. Mandy knew Mickey escaped a couple years ago because it was on every news station for a week or two until the search for him died. She was glad he was never caught but also wished her brother just served his time and got out like a normal fucking criminal. Living a life in hiding wasn't much of a life at all. 

She could relate. Running from Kenyatta the two years after she left him, lying awake in fear that he was onto her. That's something Mickey has to live with for the rest of his life now, or until he's arrested again.

Ian told her about Yevgeny, and his manic episode that led to his accident at work, about how Terry claims to be a changed man and wants his house back. They talked about Mickey's emotional battle with trusting Ian again after everything they've been through, and now Mickey being put in a situation where he's living in hell again. Mandy could usually control these situations in her family despite being the only girl. Her relationship with Mick had always been special; being so close in age and the only two kids that took after their mother in appearance. Everyone always thought they were twins.

Mickey and Mandy were the youngest but the smartest of the siblings, so a lot of responsibility always fell on them, causing both to go through horrors in life that most people wouldn't survive or overcome. Just because she hadn't talked to any of her family or friends from the South Side in years didn't mean she didn't still care and love them. It would take a few days before she would make it back home, and as the days progressed Ian became more nervous.

Mickey barely spoke or ate, just tossed back beers and chain smoked as Terry came and went as he pleased. It was sickening; Ian hated seeing Mickey shut down like this but didn't want to let anyone know Mandy was on her way. She was always capable of making her own grand entrance. 

As much as Ian didn't want to leave Mickey home alone with Terry, they were running low on food and Yevgeny was supposed to come over this weekend. Despite the dynamic of the house, Ian believed Yevy would be able to cheer Mickey up. He told Mick he was heading out to the grocery store, grabbed his wallet, the car keys, and left. Terry walked into the house shortly after Ian was gone.

"Mickey! You home?! Come on out, son, I wanna have a talk!" Terry hollered from the living room, making Mickey's nerves on edge. Mickey slowly emerged from his room but kept his distance.

“Come on over here, boy, have a seat. I just want to fucking talk," Terry called him over.

“About what...?" Mickey questioned as he moved towards the couch. Terry eventually sat next to him, wearing a darker shirt this time, but still in khaki pants.

“Look, son, I know we've had our problems in the past. We didn't share the same beliefs. But I want to work on having a bond with you again, Mickey." Terry patted Mickey's knee unexpectedly and Mickey instantly jumped out of reaction to the contact.

A moment passed as Mickey was mentally absorbing everything that came out of his father's mouth. He grew defensive and irritated in his response.

“Beliefs? You wanted to fucking kill me. You made me hate myself. And as far as a fucking bond goes, we never had one, it was always fear," Mickey finally admitted.

Terry swallowed hard. "I know I was never a good dad to you and the kids, Mick. I'll admit I still don't care for that Gallagher kid, but you don't have to fear me anymore. I got help when I was locked up. I'm better now," Terry tried convincing him again.

 

“See, and I don't know if i can believe you, Dad. You fucked us all up so bad that we can't trust you." Mickey felt strange discussing his feelings and past traumas, with his dad of all people.

"I get it if you can't trust me, Mick, but can you give me a fucking chance? I really did miss my kids. I want to make things right," Terry started tearing up. Mickey had never seen his father cry. Crying was for pussies, fags, any other breed of human, but never a fucking Milkovich. Milkovich's don't cry, or at least that's what Terry taught them. Yet here he was with tears in his eyes, looking weak and vulnerable and most of all, desperate. Mickey sighed. He wasn't going to completely trust Terry, but giving him a chance might make the living situation tolerable.

“Alright... you get one chance. One. That's it." Mickey looked up to see a small smirk on his dad's face.

“You were always my favorite son, Mickey." Terry patted him on the back. Again, Mickey flinched. "Do your old man a favor and get me a fucking beer, son," Terry barked. Mickey stood up and headed into the kitchen. That smirk Terry gave him was burning into the back of his mind. Something wasn't right; Mickey couldn't quite figure out why, but his stomach was now twisting into knots.

Ian came home to find Mickey and Terry watching tv on the couch, possibly bonding. This was Ian's worst nightmare,

“Hey, uuh, Mick? Can I talk to you for a second?" Ian nodded off towards the kitchen. Mickey got up from the couch and met Ian in there.

“Mick, what's going on?" Ian immediately asked.

“What do you mean?" Mickey sighed.

“You’re just sitting on the couch with your psychotic homophobic father like nothing ever happened," Ian replied.

“Look, Ian, I know it's fucked up but I can't go on living like this. I need to try and see if things get better from here," Mickey explained.

“I don't like this, Mick. This isn't right," Ian voiced his concern.

“I know, Ian... I know." Mickey reached up a rubbed the back of Ian's neck in an attempt to comfort him. "It'll be okay, Ian. I can handle it."

The following morning Ian couldn't sleep in so he woke up earlier than usual to go for a run. He got dressed and brushed his teeth. As he walked past the master bedroom, he could hear a voice mumbling on the other side of the door. He realized Terry was already awake and seemed to be talking on the phone. Ian lightly pressed his ear against the door.

“The kid trusts me now. I just got to get him out the house with me and take him in. Shut the fuck up, Ronnie. We're gonna turn the kid in and get the reward, that's the fucking plan you dumb shit. Just be here Monday morning with your truck and leave the rest to me. The reward for Mick is $50,000, but you only get 20% asshole... why? Cause I'm doing all the fucking work, that's why! Christ, Ronnie, the fuck are you even good for..."

Ian couldn't believe what he was hearing. Terry hadn't changed. The only reason he hadn't tried to kill them was because Mickey was actually worth something.

Ian backed away and ran out the front door. He leaned forward against the fence and threw up. His stomach felt tight and his head was spinning. He had to get away before he stormed back into that house and killed Terry himself.

Ian had been running for hours trying to clear his head. He knew he had until Monday to stop Terry's plan from happening. Luckily, Mandy was almost here and could help Ian show Mickey the light. Ian didn't realize it was noon already until Mickey texted him asking where he had gone, and reminded him Yevgeny was over for the weekend.

“Oh, shit, Yevy, " Ian whispered to himself. The last thing he wanted was Yevgeny's innocence being tainted by his ignorant and violent grandfather. He ran to the house on Zemansky Road and opened the door to find the three generations of Milkovich sons laughing and conversing. Terry was teaching Yevy the anatomy of a gun and how to use it. Basic right of passage, traditional for this family.

“This is heavy, grandpa! Can I kill the monsters under my bed with this too?" Yev asked.

“It'll be a lot heavier with actual bullets in it, kid," Terry chuckled.

“And you're not killing anyone with that thing. I don't care if it's monsters, you leave that up to the grown ups, ok?" Mickey gave Yevy a stern look.

"Hey, Yevy!" Ian pretended to be happier than he actually was.

“Uncle Ian! Look, my grandpa is here and he gave me a gun!" Yevy cheered.

“That's pretty awesome, Yev. Be careful with that thing," Ian responded to the 6-year-old.

“No, fuck that, don't listen to your, uhhh, Ian, kid. You are a Milkovich and Milkoviches are marksmen," Terry corrected.  
Ian looked at Mickey who just gave him a look that said,, 'just let it go'.

“Yeah Yev, and another thing you'll learn as a Milkovich is loyalty and not selling out your family. Why don't you ask grandpa if he can teach you a thing or two about that," Ian snapped back.

“Ian, what the fuck are you talking about?" Mickey looked confused, but just before Ian could say anything else there was a banging on the front door. Ian walked over to open it. It was Mandy.

“Ian!" She cried and jumped on him for a big hug. Her hair was back to its natural dark color but she was wearing more fashionable, mature clothing. Ian was so proud of her. She had overcome all obstacles and was doing well for herself.

 

“The fuck? Mandy? What the hell are you doing back here?" Mickey was surprised. He thought he would never see her again. She came and gave Mick a tight hug too then looked over at Yevgeny.

“Hey, little man! You got big! It's me, Auntie Mandy." Of course Yevy didn't remember her at all but the resemblance between her and Mickey was uncanny, so Yev was excited to have more family around.

“Auntie! Yaaay!" Yevy yelled and ran to hug around Mandy's legs.

“Look at my little girl all grown up," Terry chuckled,

“You can rot in hell, old man!" Mandy called out to Terry.

“You sound just like your crack head mother, except you have a better ass than she did," Terry scoffed.

“Hey, that's enough!" Mickey yelled over everyone. "Not in front of the kid, alright?" he demanded.

“I asked her to come here, Mick," Ian confessed.

“The fuck? Why?" Mickey questioned.


	13. Family Reunion

"Terry needs to leave, now." Ian folded his arms, not wanting to break the news to the family.

“I told you that's probably not gonna happen, Ian." Mickey sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose out of frustration.

“No, he's right, Mick. Dad needs to leave before he fucks our lives up even more," Mandy chimed in.

“Fuck up your lives? You don't even live here, Amanda, so you can fuck off!" Terry became defensive and stood up from the couch, hollering.

“Dad, I said not in front of the fucking kid!" Mickey yelled back,

“I don't need this horse shit. All I wanted to do was come home to my kids and start a fresh life," Terry groaned.

“Fresh start, huh? Like create a whole new life with $50,000? That enough of a fresh start for you, Terry?" Ian scoffed.

“$50,000? Where the fuck would he even get that kind of money?" Mickey asked. Everyone fell silent, staring down Terry for answers. Before Terry could respond, the front door opened again and Iggy stumbled through.

“Holy fuck, who ordered a family reunion?" Iggy stood shocked to see his father and sister home at last.

“Hey, little bitch, long time no see!" Iggy smiled at Mandy as he wrapped her in a hug.

“H,ey shit stain. Missed you, man." She hugged her older brother back with a wide grin.

“So... what the fuck is going on here?" Iggy asked, confused.

“Well, what does it look like, dumbass? Daddy's home." Mandy rolled her eyes, sarcasm heavy in her tone.

"Jesus Christ, why is everyone so fucking tense?" Iggy threw his hands up in the air.

“Your dad was planning on turning Mickey in for the reward money. Mick is worth 50 grand," Ian divulged. He was tired of all the questions. This needed to be handled.

“What? No. No fucking way." Mickey's brows furrowed as he looked between Ian and his father for confirmation. “Dad, you were gonna turn me in? Just fucking sell me out?!" Mickey demanded answers.

"Of course I was you dumb fuck! You really think I care about mending a relationship with my fucking faggot of a son and his flaming fag of a boyfriend?! Me and uncle Ronnie were gonna take your ass on Monday but this mother fucker had to ruin everything! I should fucking kill you!" Terry confessed as he pulled his gun out of his back pocket and pointed it at Ian. Mickey stepped in front of Ian.

“Dad, put the fucking gun down! Just leave, no one wants you here!" Mickey yelled.

“You don't think I'll shoot you too? You're a fucking embarrassment to the Milkovich name, you pole smoking queer! I'll kill you, then shoot gingerbread over there as soon as you drop!" Terry was fuming. Mandy still had Yevy by her side as she pulled her handgun out and pointed it at Terry.

"Yevgeny, stand with uncle Iggy," Mandy calmly directed, but Yevy refused.

“Guys, can we all put the guns down and chill the fuck out!" Iggy yelled in a panic. Ian stepped forward so Mickey wasn't blocking him anymore.

"It's alright, Mick. I can handle him," Ian insisted.

“Yev, go stand with Iggy!" Mandy demanded and nudged the child forward, but Yevgeny couldn't take his eyes away from the intense situation. How does a child wrap their mind around all this?

 

Ian stepped closer towards Terry. “Go ahead, shoot me. You just got out of jail and you'd spend the rest of your life behind bars again just for me. I'm flattered," Ian spat.

“This is the last time you step foot in my fucking house, faggot," Terry hissed as he raised the gun and pulled the trigger.

“No, uncle Ian!" Yevgeny ran away from Mandy and over to Ian at the worst possible time. The bullet meant for Ian hit Yevy in the shoulder, instantly dropping the child to the floor. Terry stood in terror.

“Yevgeny!" Mickey dropped to his knees to pick up his son.   
Blood began staining his clothes.

“Oh my god, oh my god!" Ian took a knee next to Mickey and instantly went into EMT mode.,

“Iggy find something to stop the bleeding!" Ian hollered.

“Oh fuck, shit, oh shit!" Iggy ran and grabbed towels, blankets, napkins, anything he could find to help and clean up.

“He's going into shock due to the loss of blood and pain. Call an ambulance, Mick," Ian calmly stated,

“Is he breathing? He's still breathing though, right? Yevy! Yevgeny, can you hear me?!" Mickey was panicking as he held the child's face and stared into his lost eyes.

“He's breathing for now, but you have to call for that ambulance, right now." Ian stayed calm and handed his phone to Mickey.

“You fucking piece of shit! He's your grandson!" Mandy screamed at Terry with her eyes full of tears.

“Shut the fuck up! I didn't mean to, it was meant for that fucking ass digger!" Terry yelled.

Mandy had heard enough. She raised her gun and shot two bullets, one hitting her father in the chest and the other in the neck. Terry instantly dropped to his knees, then flat on stomach, and just like that, he was gone.

“Jesus fuck, Mandy," Iggy sighed. "You fucking killed our dad..."

“About fucking time if you ask me," she wiped her tears.

“Oh fuck, now there's a dead body," Ian groaned.

Mickey had Yevy swaddled tight with a blanket and was holding him. He watched as his sister killed their dad and then slowly stood up from floor, handing Yevgeny's small, lifeless body over to Ian.

“Mandy, give me the gun," Mickey told his sister.

“What? Why?" She questioned. Her brother's eyes looked dull.

“The cops will be here any minute now. They will take me in. I was always meant to go back to prison, but you... you don't fucking belong there. Give me the gun." He put out his hand.

“No, Mick. I can come up with something... an excuse, like self-defense or something," Mandy begged.

“Come on, Mandy, just give me the gun and go find Svetlana. Take her to the hospital to see Yevy," Mickey pleaded one last time before his sister finally gave in. She nodded her head and place the gun in her brother's hand. Mickey immediately wiped her fingerprints off and held it in his hand. "Go now. Leave,   
Mandy!" he told her.

“Okay, I'm going... I love you guys," she said to her brothers before running to her car.

“Iggy, leave out the back before anyone sees you. You don't need this shit on your record either," Mick told his brother,

“You sure, man? I could fucking hang if you wanted me to." Iggy was always loyal if needed.

“I got it handled, Iggy. Go," Mick said seriously. Iggy grabbed a few items, mostly food related, then left as well.  
~  
A couple blocks away, two officers on patrol   
( Johnson and Michaels ) got a call about multiple gunshots fired and yelling and screaming from 1955 Zemansky Road.

“Hey, wait, I know that address. 1... 9... 55... what the hell, that's the fucking Milkovich house!" Officer Michaels shouted.

“The Milkovich house? I thought that place was trashed. No one's been there for ages." Officer Johnson looked confused.

“I mean, it's probably crackheads or squatters just causing a fucking ruckus" Michaels shrugged. “Oh well, shots fired. I suppose we should check it out." They turned around to head to the infamous house.

“Hey, man, wouldn't that be crazy if like, the Milkovich's were actually there when we pulled up, though? I mean, that would never happen cause who the fuck knows where they all ran off to like a bunch of roaches.” Johnson attempted to make conversation.

“All I know is if we ever found that one brother that got away... what's his name? That Mike, Mick, whatever guy. We'd get promotions for sure," Michaels replied.

“Oh yeah, Mickey, right? Yeah, I remember he escaped a few years back. It's crazy they never caught him. If I was him, I'd be on a beach with a new girlfriend on my arm and a new name, never coming back, man," officer Johnson confessed.

“Yeah, the lucky fucker is most likely in Mexico or the Bahamas, except with some dude cause apparently the guy is gay. My buddy was one of the officers on duty the night the kid came out. Huge fucking bar fight,” officer Michaels corrected.

“No shit?! Really? What a badass." The second officer sighed as they pulled up in front of the house. When they arrived, an ambulance was already at the scene.

"What's going on here?" one of the officers asked an EMT.

“There's an older man dead on the floor inside and we are taking a child who was shot in a crossfire," she explained.

“Holy shit, a kid was shot?" This was clearly more intense than the officers anticipated. They called for back up and as more squad cars arrived, Mickey was inside the house saying goodbye to Ian and Yevgeny.

“You make sure you go with him to the hospital alright? And tell ... tell Svet I'm... I'm so sorry..." Tears began streaming down Mickey's face. "I know he's not awake now, but when Yev wakes up, tell him... tell him his daddy loves him." Mickey stroked Yevys hair one last time and placed a light kiss on his forehead.

“Mickey, you don't have to do this. You can still run out the back door." Ian’s sad puppy dog eyes began to well up with tears.

“I'm tired of running, Ian, and I'm tired of hiding. I'm not going to leave with a dead body on the floor for them to pin on people I care about. I got it, okay? You just... take care of my little man." Mickey wiped his tears. "Now go get him in that ambulance. I can't have the pigs seeing me cry like a pussy," Mickey smirked. Ian lightly chuckled but shook his head before leaving the house.

“I love you, Mick," he sighed, then left to meet the EMT.

“I love you, Ian," Mickey mumbled to himself as he watched them leave.

Twelve cops stormed through the front door, stepping around Terry's lifeless body on the floor;

“Put the gun down! Hands where we can see them!" They yelled out to Mickey. Mickey dropped the weapon and place his hands on the back of his head. Immediately, he was forced to his knees, cuffed, and given his Miranda rights, then taken outside. The whole neighborhood was outside watching the commotion. When they finally dragged Mickey out, everyone began cheering for him.

Mickey figured he should make it worth everyone's while and say a few words.

“Get your fucking hands off me! .,..Ay officer! If I go back to prison does that mean you'll be going back to the farm?!" Mickey gave his typical cocky little asshole smile as they shoved him in the back of the police car,

“You have the right to remain silent, Milkovich. Why don't you exercise those rights," one overweight cop called out.

“Your fat ass telling me to exercise anything is fucking high-larious, oink oink," he spat on the window as they closed the car door on him.

As they drove off, some neighbors were in the street yelling,   
"welcome home Mickey!"

Already Mickey missed the quiet of the first day he arrived.

The whole drive down to the station, Mickey couldn't help but replay the events that occurred. His son was shot, his sister murdered their father, he was heading back to prison, Ian would most likely never speak to him again. His blood ran cold. His whole life was destroyed within a matter of minutes. What if Yevy didn't make it? How could he live with himself? But Mickey couldn't crack now. He had to stay strong. Life was only going to get worse moving forward.

“Hey, Milkovich, was that your boy? The kid that got shot?" The officer in the driver's seat looked in the rearview mirror and asked.

“Yeah... he's... he's only 6," Mickey tried to reply as he swallowed that familiar lump in his throat.

“He's your son, he's tough... he'll be alright." The cop gave Mick a small sympathetic smile, then looked forward at the road. Mickey's eyes began to water. He leaned against the car window and stared at all the passing people and buildings, attempting to take it all in since this would most likely be the last time he was here.


	14. The Plan

Mandy, Svetlana, and Ian watched as Yevgeny was surrounded by a million nurses and doctors. He went into immediate surgery to remove the bullet. Ian had never seen Svetlana cry before, but at this moment she was inconsolable.

“Mickey says he's sorry," Ian mumbled, attempting to ease the situation but he knew there was nothing he could say that would change anything. Surprisingly, Svetlana didn't punch Ian in the throat. Instead she calmly replied,

“I know he is not a bad father, I know he tries. I do not blame him."

“Svet, he's going to be okay... he's a good kid," Mandy chimed in, sadness still in her eyes.

They waited a couple hours for any news. Finally, a doctor came forward. “He lost a lot of blood. We had to give him a blood transfusion. We were able to remove the bullet and stitch the wound fine. He will have a scar on his right shoulder for the rest of his life but other than that, no major arteries were hit. He'll be fine after recovery," the doctor announced to the three adults.

“He'll be fine," Ian reiterated with a sigh of relief. Mandy began crying happy tears and Svetlana was speechless for once.  
~

"Well I'll be damned, Mickey fucking Milkovich. Can’t say I'm surprised to see you back here. Think it's a tradition in your family or some shit," the detective smirked as he sat across from Mick.

“Eat me." Mickey rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, hands still cuffed.

“Why don't we cut out all the cute shit and get straight to the story. What the fuck happened in that house, Milkovich?" the detective questioned.

“I was in hiding. My dad came home and raised hell. He pulled out his gun, so I pulled out mine. He shot at me first. My... my kid got caught in the middle... out of impulse and self-defense, I shot him." Mickey left it at that.

“You expect me to believe you shot your father out of self defense and not rage after he just shot your son?" The questions continued.

“I could give two fucks less what the fuck you believe. I'm telling you what the fuck happened," Mickey snapped back.

“Fine, anything else you want to tell us?"

"Nope. Oh, wait, yeah, I almost forgot. Go fuck yourself." Mickey gave a smug smile before getting escorted out. Mickey was going to plead not guilty to manslaughter, and claim it was self-defense. As far as his penalty for escaping prison? He had another plan.  
~

A week passed and it was visitation day. Mickey sat in the familiar orange jumpsuit that made his skin crawl. He swore he would never come back. He picked up the old black phone and saw Ian on the other end, smiling.

“Hey, Mick, how are you holding up?" Ian sighed.

"Well, I haven't fucked anyone and no one has tried to fuck with me, so I guess good so far," Mickey smirked. It had only been a week and already Ian looked so different than he remembered.

“I miss you. Do you know how much time they're giving you yet?" Ian lowered his voice.

“Nah, I won't know for a while. I miss you... a lot." Mickey looked Ian up and down and smirked.

“Yevy is doing great. He's home now; recovering fine. He asks about you a lot. Luckily, he doesn't really remember what happened." Ian could see the loneliness in Mickey's eyes. He had to get him out of here. It was hard seeing Mick this miserable.

“That's my little man. Tell him I love him and I miss him every day. Fuck, I want to see him but I don't want him to remember me like this... in here." Mickey bit his lip, nerves getting the best of him.

 

“I will, Mick. Do you still want me to talk to Svetlana about the plan?" Ian looked around and quietly whispered into the phone.

“Yeah, man. Tell her the sooner the fucking better. I hate this place," Mickey sighed.

The loud siren went off, letting the inmates and visitors know their time was coming to an end.

“I'll wait this time, Mick, I swear I will. I really do love you." Ian smiled sincerely and put his hand on the thick glass separating them. Mickey slowly met his hand with Ian's.

“I love you," Mickey breathed into the phone, through Ian's ear and straight to his heart. The guards began yelling for the inmates to head back, Mickey wiped his eyes and waved goodbye.  
~

"So, Mickey needs you to do the plan," Ian told Svetlana as he stood in her kitchen, watching her make dinner for Yevy,

“How soon?" She asked flat out without even looking up.

“Like we should probably get things started by tomorrow, soon," Ian answered.

“Alright, give me a few days and it'll happen the next visitation day," Svetlana confirmed. “I need to get ready for it first," she continued. Ian nodded his head in confirmation. The plan was on.

The next day, Svetlana sat in her car, parked outside a school.

“Where are you, fatty?" she mumbled as she scouted the teenagers. "Aaahhh there you are," she purred and raised her camera, taking a few shots before driving off to get the photos developed right away. She then met up with some old Russian friends to get her fake ID and social. The last step was to call the prison and submit all this fake information to get approved and put on the next visitation list.

Ian was to watch Yevgeny in a few weeks so she could continue on with the plan without any distractions or outside threats. She was focused and ready. It was now or never and Mickey's fate was resting in Svetlana's manipulative hands.  
~

The day had come for visitation. Svetlana arrived at the prison alone and calm. She went through security and requested which inmate she was here to see. They escorted her to a room with tables and chairs. She sat in one chair and waited patiently.

The inmates were let in and told where to sit. Sammi looked confused as she saw the back of Svetlana's head and sat in the chair across from her.

“Do I know you?" Sammi squinted her eyes.

“No, but I know you," Svetlana smirked.

“What the hell do you want?" Sammi became defensive.

“You are going to talk to cops. Change your statement and say you lied," Svetlana demanded.

“Change my statement? Is this about Mickey? No way. Mickey tried to kill me, and who the hell are you? His side hoe?" Sammi snapped.

“You will change your statement and say you lied, or dumb obese boy gets hurt." Svetlana pulled out the photos she took of Chuckie after school.

“Just because he is 17 and still a freshman doesn't mean he's dumb. My boy is slightly challenged is all. Don't hurt him, bitch, or I swear." Sammi was shaking.

“Or what? You are behind bars for the next 10 years. Your boy will have been buried by the time you get out of here. That is, if we let you out of here alive," Svetlana smiled.

“I have a lot of friends in here and out there so if you don't do what we ask. your son is no more. We clear?"

Sammi was breathing very heavily. She didn't know what to think. They either kill her or kill her son. Either way, she would never see him outside of these walls again,

“Fine, okay, I'll do it." Sammi rolled her eyes.

“You have one week," Svetlana grinned as she stood up from the table to leave.

“Tell Mickey to go fuck himself!" Sammi yelled as she watched the stunning Russian strut out.  
~

It was dinner time and all the inmates crowded into the cafeteria. Cold spaghetti with rock hard bread and week old expired milk was chef's special tonight. As Mickey put his tray out for the barely edible meal and scooted down the line, skipping the bread (he's not trying to break his teeth today), he looked for an empty table to sit at. He had been in this type of environment since juvie so he knew how things went down here. He began poking his fork in what he believed was supposed to resemble spaghetti and took a bite. No matter how disgusting the food in prison might be, no one could afford not eating and being weak here.

Another Hispanic inmate walked by Mickey and slid his tray off the table and onto the floor.

“My cousin Damon told me you a fag. You remember Damon? The one you left stranded out there, homie,” he hissed as he stood in front of the table.

Mickey sat up straight with the fork still in his hand and made eye contact with the man. He tilted his head slightly to the right and glared.

"You know, if you wanna get fucked, all you gotta do is say please," Mickey smirked.

“I ain't gay like you, gringo." The man leaned forward on the table, getting in Mickey's face as a threat. The man reached out a hand and.gave Mick an aggressive push, Mickey immediately grabbed the mans head and locked it with his arm while pointing the fork at his jugular;

“You come any closer and this fork won't be the only thing getting shoved in your throat, amigo," Mickey spat.

“Milkovich!" A guard entered the dining hall, calling out. Mickey let the Hispanic inmate go and dropped the fork. The inmate backed away and scurried to his table.

“Milkovich! Let's go," the guard approached him a little closer.

“Fuck, man, it was just a fork. Is solitary really necessary?" Mickey rolled his eyes.

“Shut the hell up, Milkovich. The counselor wants to see you." The guard shoved him along.  
~

Sammi admitted to lying about Mickey's involvement. She said she'd taken some pills and possibly alcohol together and must have fallen asleep moving her stuff into her crate. She claimed to only have blamed Mickey because he was the easiest target out of everyone staying at the Gallagher house at the time. Surprisingly, the police bought it.

“Damn, I don't blame Milkovich for escaping, man. I'd want to bust out of prison too if I was falsely accused in the first place," officer Michaels and Johnson discussed the situation while on patrol.

“Yeah really, I can't imagine what it's like being thrown back in there now. At least these charges will get dropped and shorten his sentence, the lucky fucker," Johnson stated.

The 15 year attempted murder charge from Sammi was finally dropped, but he now had a possible second-degree murder charge to deal with.


	15. The Run Down

“The fuck is all this?” Mickey questioned as he was seated in the interrogation room.

“And we meet again. How you holding up, Mick?” The same arrogant detective from before sat across from him.

“Fucking peachy. The fuck you want?” Mickey glared from across the table.

“We have a proposition for you. See, the whole time your daddy was locked up, your uncle, Ronald Ray Milkovich, was running the show. So even though we had your father behind bars all these years, business and illegal activity on his behalf continued to run smoothly as usual.”

“What exactly does this shit have to do with me?” Mickey was growing anxious.

“If you can get us your uncle Ronnie, we will reduce your sentence.” The detective leaned forward. “Look, Mick, between you and I? Your dad was a total waste of space and anyone would’ve done what you did... killed him for shooting your kid. We don’t want you. We want the real troublemakers.”

“So if I rat on my uncle and bring him to you, you cut down my sentence? By how much?” Mickey asked, intrigued.

“How does one year for a second-degree manslaughter charge sound? 6 months for good behavior.” The detective smiled, knowing this was an irresistible offer.

“6 months? That’s it? And I’m free to go?” Mickey reiterated.

“You’ll be a free man, Mickey. Be able to make it to your son’s next birthday party and everything.”

Being a snitch is the number one thing a Milkovich was taught to never ever be. It was practically engraved into Mickey’s skull before he learned how to walk. However, his own father and uncle Ronnie were the ones that were going to completely fuck his life over and turn him in for reward money in the first place. It was safe to say the ‘no rat' rule had been lifted and it was free game at this point. Why wouldn’t Mickey want revenge? His dad was already dead but Ronnie did have a major part in how everything went down. Ronnie needed to pay as well.

“I’ll do it.” Mickey looked the detective in the eyes, serious as ever.

“Good thinking, kid. Now this is how it’ll go down...,” The detective began.

~

Ian and Yevy were walking through a park with ice cream cones. Yevgeny was completely healed now and the whole incident was a blur. The only thing Yevy knew for sure was that his dad had been gone for awhile now and he missed him every day.

“When is daddy coming home?” Yevgeny looked up at Ian while licking the chocolate that began to drip.

“I’m not too sure, buddy. Probably not for a while,” Ian replied.

“Well, when can I visit him?” Yevy continued asking.

“Whenever your dad is ready for you to visit, okay?” Ian gave a small smile.

They walked a bit further then sat on a park bench to finish their cones. Yevy was barely eating his and seemed distracted. Ian noticed Yevgeny was staring at something far in the distance. His eyes immediately lit up as he dropped his ice cream on the ground. Ian followed the boy’s stare and saw Mickey walking across the field towards them.

“Dad! Daaaad! Daddy, it’s you!” Yevy ran and tackled Mickey. Mickey scooped him up in his arms.

Ian tossed his cone on the ground and quickly ran over to them.

“Mickey? How are you out? What’s going on?” Ian’s curiosity got the best of him.

“I’m out on bail for now. Don’t worry, though. I got some business to take care of and then I’ll be out in no time.” Mickey was being strangely vague. Ian figured this wasn’t something to be discussed in front of Yevgeny and let it slide.

“Daddy, can you push me on the swings before we go home?” Yevy smiled. It was the most beautiful thing Mickey has seen these past few months.

“Of course, come on.” Mickey began walking over to the swing set with his son.  
~

“So are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” Ian asked as he sat on Mickey’s bed. Svetlana had already picked up Yevy and it was just the two of them in the house. Forensics had only marked the house as a crime scene for a short period of time since Mickey’s statement of what happened didn’t leave much room for outside allegations.

“Look, Ian, I can’t give you a lot of details because this is serious. My life literally depends on shit running as smoothly, as possible so all I can say is that I’m cooperating with the feds in exchange for early release. I’m taking down my uncle Ronnie.”

“Holy shit, Mick... I don’t even know what to say. Wait, so after you do this, you have to go back to prison?” Ian asked.

“Unfortunately, yes... but only for like 6 to 12 months, then I’m free to go,” Mickey reassured.

“Fuck, this is insane, Mick. Whatever you have to do to get out of prison, make sure you do it right. Cause we need you home... I need you home.” Ian grabbed Mickey’s hand and held it softly.

“It’ll be okay, Ian. I’m coming out of this and coming home.   
Promise.” Mickey leaned in and met Ian’s lips.

“It’s torture when you’re away,” Ian breathed against Mickey’s mouth as he began unbuttoning Mickey’s shirt.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Mickey exhaled as he unzipped Ian’s pants, anxiously attempting to handle Ian.

It wasn’t long before the two men were completely nude and gently stroking each other.

“Get on me,” Mickey breathed heavily into Ian’s ear as Ian obliged.

Ian climbed on top of his lover and entered him slowly. Nothing about tonight was going to be rushed. Every second was to be accounted for. They needed time to stand still before they opened their eyes and Mickey was behind bars again and Ian was left alone to pick up all the pieces. No, tonight they were the only two people on the planet and nothing else mattered.

Mickey’s nails dug into Ian’s back with every deep thrust. He kept his eyes closed, afraid everything would end if he opened them. Ian panted in the crease of Mickey’s neck, and as he lifted his head, he noticed Mickey’s eyes stayed shut.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Ian lightly whispered.

Mickey’s eyes slowly fluttered, still afraid to open them all the way. Eventually, he let himself stare directly into Ian’s eyes.

“I love you... more than anything,” Ian reassured. “I’m not going anywhere, I’m done running away.”

“Okay... good, cause I really fucking need you.” Mickey didn’t realize it at first, but Ian gave him exactly what he wanted to hear. His heart felt warm and his mind was finally at ease, if only for a moment. They kissed passionately as Ian continued his rhythm, and within minutes they both came and slept through the rest of the night intertwined.  
~

When Mickey awoke the following morning, it was still early. Ian was still asleep as Mick quietly rolled out of bed and eventually got in the shower. Today was the day he had to meet up with the feds, get wired up, and have a meeting with his uncle. Everything needed to go as planned or else Mickey was fucked for life.

As the hot water ran down his head and down his back, Mickey decided that no matter happened today, he would find a way back to Ian and Yevgeny. No matter what it took. He got out of the shower, threw on some clothes, gave the sleeping ginger one last glance, and headed out the front door.

It was a few minutes past 8am when Mickey approached a white plumbers work van. He lightly knocked on it and the van door slid open. Inside was the detective, along with a couple of his co-workers, ready to wire Mickey up from head to toe.

“You sure you can pull this off, Milkovich? If there are any signs of trouble or if you think Ronnie is on to us, you need to get the hell out of there,” the detective worried.

“Yeah, I got it.” Mickey stood, arms wide while they taped wires and tiny microphones all over him.

 

“Alright, so a quick rundown of the plan to refresh your memory. You will approach your uncle Ronnie, casually start up a conversation, maybe leading into the death of your father, and then all the business the old man left behind for Ronnie to deal with. We need Ronnie admitting to his part in all this, as clear as day if we are going to nail him.”

“How many fucking times do I gotta tell you, detective? I got it handled. Now fuck off and let me do what I need to do in order for me to get the fuck out of prison.” Mickey gave a waving motion as he hopped out of the van and headed down the street.  
~

“Ay! Ron! Some kid is here to see you!” One of the workers in Ronnie’s warehouse called out.

Ronnie came out of his small office room and saw Mickey waiting at the entrance.

“Mick! How’s it going, kid? What brings you here?” Ronnie came closer and gave his youngest nephew a light hug.

“I’m finally out on bail and wanted to come by and see how you were holding up,” Mick hugged him back.

“Oh, you mean since your old man died? Yeah, I got everything under control. He hasn’t been very hands-on with the business for some time now.”

“So you’ve been running things for a few years then?” Mickey tried to get more information out of his uncle.

“Of course. I gotta make sure the guns and drugs are taken care of and distributed properly. What’s that saying? If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself,” Ronnie smiled.

From the van, the detective was listening to every word coming through Mickey’s microphone.

“That’s it! We got it! His confession.” The detective clapped his hands.

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. I’m glad you're doing good, uncle Ronnie. I just wanted to stop by, but I should be heading out now. Gotta go pick up my kid and do some shit.”  
Mickey knew he completed his end of the deal and was ready for it to be over with.

“Oh yeah, the kid your dad shot, right? I’m glad he’s doing better. Too bad he’ll never grow up to know his grandpa, or his dad for that matter.” Ronnie smirked and snapped his fingers twice. Two large men came from behind Mickey and grabbed both of his arms.

In the plumber van, the detective knew he needed to act fast or this wasn’t going end well.

“Oh shit! Ron knows we’re onto him! Call for back up!”

“What the fuck are you doing? Ronnie, tell them to get the fuck off of me!” Mickey squirmed.

“You dumb little shit stain. First, you kill my brother, as well as fuck up my chances of getting some real cash. Then, you think you could just walk in here and take down my entire operation?” Ronnie was face to face with Mick. Mickey’s hand were tied behind him.

“I know you are wired, son, so let me make myself clear and talk right into the microphone. You might’ve been able to get even with your daddy, but you and the feds will never cross me.”

Ronnie punched Mickey in the stomach, then smacked him across the face, letting him drop to his knees. Mickey panted heavily, trying to catch his breath, slowly raising his head once he got enough energy.

“Fuck you, Ronnie, you don’t know shit.” Mickey spat a mouth full of blood and saliva onto his uncle's shoes. Ronnie kicked him in the stomach again, causing Mickey to topple over into the fetal position and gasp for air.

“Kill him.” Ronnie snapped his fingers at his two workers and then pointed down at Mickey.


	16. West Side

It had been hours since Ian had heard from Mickey. He knew Mickey left early that morning to cooperate, but something didn’t feel right. He would have called or at least texted Ian by now with some type of news. Good or bad, Mickey was always honest. Ian’s stomach was rolling and his throat was dry. He couldn’t explain the feeling that came over him with each passing minute every time his phone chimed but wasn’t Mick. The only other time he felt this exact feeling was when he found out his mother died. That was a feeling he never wanted to associate with the love of his life.

30 more minutes passed and Ian couldn’t wait any longer. He snatched his phone and dialed Mickey’s current number. It rang all the way through, but no answer. By the 13th call with zero answer, Ian could only imagine the worst, grabbed his jacket, and ran out of the house.

“He’s dead... he’s dead...” was all Ian’s could hear rattling in his mind. He ran to the police station as fast as his legs would take him. When he arrived, it was calm, business as usual and certainly nothing out of the ordinary.

“Excuse me, I need to speak with a detective that was working with my boyfriend,” Ian anxiously asked the lady at the front counter.

“There are many different detectives, honey. You have to at least give me a name,” she replied.

Fuck, Ian never got a name. He didn’t even know if Mickey knew the name of who he was cooperating with.

“What if I give you my boyfriend's name? He’s a felon, so his name should be all over the system,” Ian panicked.

The lady looked Ian up and down and pulled her keyboard closer, ready to type.

“Mickey Milkovich, or it might be under his full name, ummmm... Mikhalio Aleksandr Milkovich.” Ian was tapping the floor with his foot and running his fingers through his hair. The wait was excruciating.

“Ah, yes, Mickey. He was out on bail, working with detective Rick Howel. Looks like they went out this morning and still aren’t back yet,” the lady squinted at the computer screen.

“Well, do you know when they are supposed to be back? Or where they are?” Ian sighed.

“Can’t exactly give away that information, sir, but usually bigger cases like this one can be an all-day ordeal,” she assured.

“Okay, thanks for your help.” Ian began to walk away when suddenly the entire atmosphere of the station changed. Officers hurried out of the doors and rushed to their cars. Ian overheard on one of the radios, someone calling for major back up on a potential hostage situation at the oldmMetal warehouse on the West Side.

“Finish your pizza later, McGuire! Howel needs our help!” One Officer shouted to another as they came from a back lunch room and headed outside.

“Howel? Mickey is with Howel?” Ian’s heart began racing as he followed the officers out. He dialed Mandy’s phone and told her to pick him up at the police station.

“Hurry, Mandy, we need to head to the West Side,” Ian rushed before hanging up the phone.

~

Mickey woke up and couldn’t move. His arms were tied above his head to a metal pipe and his legs and feet were tied together. He seemed to be leaning up against a wall, and by the looks of it, was still at the warehouse. The same two tall men from before slowly approached him, one holding duct tape and the other a glock 19.

“You guys do everything together? One shits, the other wipes. Trust me, this codependency thing doesn’t lead to a healthy relationship with another man, I’d know.” Mickey smiled. Even if he was going to die today, he was going to go out doing what he does best - talking shit.

“So lemme guess. Judging by the way you walk, I’d say you are the one that takes it up the ass. Believe me, I’m fucking gay. I know a couple of queens when I see ‘em.” Mickey licked his busted lip and let out a light laugh at the man holding the duct tape.

“We’ve had enough of your loud mouth, you fucking twink,” one of them spat while the other ripped a piece of tape off the roll.

“You both can go fuck yourselves,” Mickey glared as they placed the tape across his mouth.

This was really it. He was going to die hanging here after being an informant on his own family. What the fuck had his life come to? He didn’t even tell anyone where he was, never said a real goodbye to Yevgeny or Ian. Just when he was finally promised freedom and could look forward to the life he always dreamt of having with his boyfriend and his son, it was all going to disappear with a single bullet.

Mickey couldn’t fight the one tear that finally  
made its way down his cheek as he hung his head. He remembered he vowed to himself in the shower this morning that no matter what happened, he would find his way back to his son and to Ian. He closed his eyes and pictured how breathtaking Ian looked last night, the last time Ian told him he loved him. He saw a glowing smile and big blue eyes along with the most beautiful laugh he’s ever heard as he remembered pushing Yevy on the swings.

“Alright, Ronnie texted me saying it’s time. He’s finally half way across town so it’s time to pull the trigger,” Mickey heard one of the men say.

He kept his eyes closed, still trying to envision the only good things that ever came from his miserable life. Mickey’s heart started pounding so loud that his hearing became muffled, adrenaline flowing through his entire body.

A loud boom echoed through the room causing Mickey to flinch. Gunshots rang through his ears. He didn’t feel any pain. He wasn’t dead yet. He opened his eyes to see police officers swarming the building and the two men that worked for uncle Ronnie face down on the ground getting cuffed. This didn’t feel real. He was supposed to be dead by now. Mickey’s mind could not grasp the reality that he might actually walk out of here alive.

“It’s all clear! Untie the poor kid!” The detective Howel called out.

An officer approached Mickey and slowly pulled the tape off his mouth, then set his arms and legs free.

“You’ll be okay. We’ll get you out of here,” the officer sympathized. Mickey just nodded his head. All of his limbs felt like jello as the adrenaline washed away. All the pain from the previous beatings came back full force.

“It’s alright, I got you,” the officer said, letting Mickey lean all his weight on her as she helped walk him outside.

Ian and Mandy were finally pulling up to the warehouse when they saw all the cop cars.

“Oh fuck, what the hell happened?” Mandy gasped. Ian was frozen with fear.

They jumped out of Mandy’s Jeep and ran over to the warehouse where Mickey was just being escorted out. Ian stopped the moment he saw Mickey. He was limping, had bruises on his face, and was bleeding, but he was alive.

“Mick! Mickey!" Ian cried through the sea of cops until he was close enough to grab Mickey and pull him close.

“I’m okay, Ian, really.” Mickey tried to downplay the amount of pain he was in but no one was believing it.

“Jesus Christ, Mick, look at you. You probably have some cracked ribs, internal bruising and a million other things. We need to get you to the hospital,” Ian insisted.

“I thought I was going die. That I'd never fucking see you or Yev again.” Mickey held Ian tight.

“I thought you were dead too, Mick. I didn’t know what to think.” Ian’s eyes began to water as they hugged even tighter.

“Mick! You’re alive!” Mandy came running over. She wrapped her arms around her two boys. "Come get in my car, I’ll drive us to the ER.”  
~

“Any word on Ronnie’s whereabouts?” Detective Howel questioned the officers.

“Dumb and dumber told us he was on his way across town in an old silver SUV. After we put the word out, a patrolman stopped him. Shitload of drugs and guns in the car. Has Ronnie in custody as we speak,” the female officer smiled.

“Hell yes, that fucker is going down,” Howel high fived her. “Can’t wait to tell Milkovich the good news.”


	17. Birthday Boy

It had been 7 long months since Ronnie was thrown in jail and sent to a separate county than Mick. Mick healed fine from beatings and was kept in protection the entire time he finished his time in prison. Ian visited him every chance he could. Mickey still didn’t want Yevy seeing him in that environment, so Ian made sure to give him updates and pictures of their weekend adventures together.

The way fate had it, detective Howel was right. Mickey was getting released just in time for Yevy’s 7th Birthday. This would be the first birthday party Mickey was actually able to attend.

Ian pulled up to the prison and waited. The back seat of the car was filled with wrapped gifts and the trunk was full of balloons. He was waiting about 20 minutes before the gates began to open, and out walked Mickey in dark jeans, black combat boots and dark grey long-sleeved shirt.

“Damn, he looks good,” Ian muttered to himself as he got out of the car and made his way to Mickey.

“You look great, Mick! Come here!” Ian opened his arms for a hug. Mickey smiled and gave in.

“Of course I look good, the fuck else do you think I do in there but work out,” Mickey smirked.

“Yeah, I know”, Ian rolled his eyes and laughed as he put one arm over his lover's shoulder and head back towards the car.

“Did you get everything I asked?” Mickey’s eyebrows raised.

“Yes, Mick. Seven different presents for all years you missed and a shit load of balloons,” Ian smiled.

“Good, little man deserves it. You didn’t tell him I was coming back, did you?” Mickey continued.

“Nope. Yevy has no clue that I’m picking you up and heading straight to the party.” Ian got into the driver's seat.

Mickey nodded his head and got into the passenger's seat. As Ian started the car, Mickey couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

“What are you looking at?” Ian smiled.

“I can’t fucking believe it, man. I’m free...” Mickey scoffed to himself. “No more hiding and running. We can be everything we always wanted to be.” His swallowed hard and looked down.

“Hey, don’t blame yourself. I’m not innocent either, Mick. I’ve done my share of shit to where we couldn’t be together. That doesn’t matter now, though. Now there is nothing stopping us. We could even move to Canada if we wanted to.” Ian placed his free hand on Mickey’s lap, grabbing his hand and holding it tight.

“Canada is cool. I can ask Svet if she’d be willing to come with us. I can’t be too far from the kid.” Mickey ran his thumb across Ian’s knuckles and smiled.

It was quiet between them most of the ride home. As they got closer to the neighborhood, Mickey felt the need to clarify his feelings.

“Ian, I want you to know I’m done fucking shit up. I want to stay out of jail and really try and make something decent of myself... for us and for the kid. I need to do better.” Mickey looked Ian in the eyes.

“I know, Mick, and I know you will be better. We can be better together.” Ian lifted their joined hands and placed a soft kiss on top of Mickey’s hand. They pulled up to the house and Ian turned the engine off and began getting out of the car.

“The fuck? Why are we at your house?” Mickey was confused, starring at the tall blue Gallagher house.

“Well, you’re no longer a wanted criminal so Fi said it was fine to throw the party here.” Ian popped the trunk and grabbed all the balloons.

“Uhhh, alright.” Mickey wished Ian had given him a heads up but he played along nonetheless.

Lip was on the front porch smoking a cigarette when they arrived. He tossed it and came down to the car to help Mickey carry in presents.

“Hey, man, welcome back.” Lip gave Mickey a light pat on the back then reached into the back seat to take three boxes out.

“Thanks, man.” Mickey actually gave a genuine smile seeing as Lip’s welcome was just as genuine for a change.

The three men made their way through the front door. There were a lot more people here than Mickey expected. All of Ian’s siblings, including little Franny, and Frank, Kev and V with their twins. V still refused to talk to Svetlana, but other than that, everything was fine. Mandy and Iggy came and hugged Mick. He was receiving welcome home gifts and smiles from everyone, definitely due to Ian, but it still felt nice.

Colin came from the kitchen with a beer and a baby on his arm. “Hey, Mick! Glad you’re back!” He handed Mickey a beer.

“What the fuck! You came from fucking Canada!” Mickey gave his brother a light hug and smiled at his new baby niece.

Ian was coming back inside from the backyard where Yevgeny was playing with the other kids. He told Yevy he had a big birthday surprise waiting for him inside.

“Daddy’s home!” Yevy yelled as he ran across the living room and jumped into Mickey’s arms.

“Ay! There he is! The birthday boy!” Mickey laughed as he picked up his son.

“You finally came to my party.” Yevy wrapped his small arms around Mickey’s neck in a tight hug.

“Yeah, little man, and I promise to be here for all the next ones, okay. But I did get you seven presents for all seven birthdays I missed.” Mickey gave Yevgeny a light kiss on the forehead before putting him down. “Go open them.” He pointed to the pile of balloons and boxes on the floor.

Yevy ran and sat on the floor, immediately tearing into the wrapping paper. Ian came and stood by Mickey to watch.

“You really are a good dad, Mick. I’m really proud of you. You’ve come a long way,” Ian sighed and place one arm around Mickey’s waist.

“I’m definitely not my dad,” Mickey smirked and leaned into Ian.

Svetlana walked over to them to also see what mess her child was creating now.

“You spoil him too much,” she nudged Mickey with a smile.

“Yeah, I know,” he grinned back.

Colin came over with his girlfriend, his daughter in his arms.

“So that job is still open if you wanted to head back to Canada with us and get your life started,” he mentioned to the group.

“I would, man. Trust me, I want to get the fuck out of here, but I’m not leaving Svet and the kid here alone.” Mickey shook his head as he sipped his beer.

“Who said I didn’t want to go?” Svetlana raised an eyebrow at Mickey.

“I mean, I just figured...” Mickey stuttered.

“You thought wrong, fairy boy. I want to leave this place too. Better life for Yevgeny.”

“What... you... you serious? You wanna move to Canada?” Mickey’s eyebrows furrowed together.

“She obviously does, Mick. Hell, I’d go,” Ian grinned.

“Well, it’s fucking settled then. You guys are coming to Canada!” Colin high fived Ian.

“Who’s going to Canada? I want to go,” Iggy chimed in.

“You too? Jesus Christ, I guess the Milkoviches are migrating,” Mickey laughed.

Today was a really fucking good day, and hopefully, the first of many to come. Mickey knew with his luck, life would continue to throw him more unnecessary problems, but he could only hope Ian would be by his side through it all. Sure, all these families were completely fucked and had their issues, but this was finally Mickey’s time. He was finally going to start a new life in Canada with his family and the love of his life. Not even in his wildest dreams he had in prison did he think this was ever possible.

As Yevgeny opened the last of his presents and the crowd dispersed to different parts of the house, Ian grabbed Mickey’s hand and pulled him up the stairs to his old bedroom. It felt like yesterday when Mickey was in here last.

“Ian, we are not about to bang while my kid’s birthday party is going on downstairs,” Mickey looked confused.

“You’re right, we’re not.” Ian chuckled and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked at Mickey standing awkwardly by the dresser. “Come here, I won’t bite. Jesus,” Ian sighed and patted the spot next to him with his hand.

Mickey looked back over his shoulder and closed the bedroom door, then sat next to Ian.

Ian held Mickey’s hand before he began to speak. “Mick, you mean so much to me. I don’t want you to ever doubt that ever again. I think... I think when we finally make it to Canada, we should get married.”

Mickey was completely speechless. This couldn’t be right. As perfect as Ian was, why would he permanently and legally want to be tied to Mick? As far a Mickey was concerned, he was an all-around fuck up which was going to eventually make Ian want to run away at some point.

“Let’s do this for us, Mick. We need this. We need each other. I’m not going anywhere. You’re it for me,” Ian reassured Mickey like he knew exactly what was racing through Mickey’s head right then. He could always read every expression. No one knew Mick better.

Ian was right. Mickey deserved to be happy for once, to start over and build the life he always wished for himself.

“You gonna marry me, Mick?” Ian smiled.

“ Yeah, okay. We gonna go down the courthouse? In tuxes and shit?” Mickey smirked.

“Like a couple of old queens,” Ian laughed, and leaned in meet Mickey’s lips with his own.

“I only have one fucking condition,” Mickey said, looking Ian seriously in the eyes.

“What? What is it?” Ian panicked.

“Suck my dick, whenever I want,” Mickey smiled. Ian couldn’t wait to say, “I do”.

 

END


End file.
